LIFE STORIES FOR rOUNG PEOPLE 



MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH 



LIFE STORIES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 



Translated from the German by 

George p. Upton 



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Tl/TARIE ANTOINErrE, ^een of France 

( From a painting by Mme. Lebrun) 



Life Stories for Toung People 



MARIE ANTOINETTE'S 
YOUTH 

Translated from the German of 
Dr. Heinrich von Lenk 

BY 

GEORGE P. UPTON 

Translator of ^^ Memories** and *' Immenseej** author of ** Upton 

Handbooks on Music," editor ^^Autobiography of 

Theodore Thomas^** etc.f etc. 

WITH FIVK ILLUSTRATIONS 




CHICAGO 

A. C. McCLURG & CO. 

1908 



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Copyright 

A. C. McClurg & Co. 

1908 

Published August 22, 1908 



THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. 8. A. 



Ctan^lat0r's5 'Bvtiutt 



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^HE two volumes, " Maria Theresa" and 
"The Little Dauphin," which have 
already appeared in the series of " Life 
b» Stories for Young People," contain much 



valuable information concerning Marie Antoinette. 
The present volume gives us a still clearer insight 
into her character and the circumstances which led up 
to her tragic fate. This story of her life begins with 
her earliest childhood and closes as the clouds are 
gathering and the shadow of the guillotine looms 
darkly before her. It is the story of her youth — 
of a girl, fond of pleasure and display, given to 
excesses and extravagances, married in her fifteenth 
year, for reasons of state policy, to the young 
French Dauphin, then but sixteen, who was kindly 
but dull and inert, excellent in his intentions, but 
without resolution to put them to practice ; the 
story of a queen who imperilled her character and 
laid herself open to unjust calumnies by her wild 
caprices, and who alienated her people by her dis- 
regard of th-em and her inability to comprehend 
them ; of a woman who gave up her pleasures and 
vanities for the sake of her children ; and of a 
sovereign who at last proved herself worthy of the 
name and fame of her great mother, Maria Theresa, 

[V] 



^ TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE t 

by expiating her faults upon the guillotine, with 
a queenly dignity and lofty courage that extorted 
admiration even from her bitterest calumniators. 
She had many faults, and yet there can be only 
a feeling of pity for the little princess, sacrificed for 
the ambitions of her mother, and sent to France 
to become the queen of a people who hated her, 
intrigued against her, and made her the victim of 
the basest and most unjust libels. The story, as 
told in these pages, is a picturesque panorama 
of her young life — her childhood days, espousal, 
and marriage ; the daily routine of her life at 
Versailles ; the old-fashioned etiquette at which she 
revolted, and the absurd fashions of the time ; 
the intrigues of factions and disappointed favorites ; 
domestic troubles ; the life at Trianon ; her musical 
studies, with glimpses of the Gluck-Piccini war ; the 
visits of Voltaire and Rousseau ; the incident of the 
diamond necklace which raised such a storm about 
the innocent Queen ; and finally the outburst of 
popular hatred which culminated at the guillotine. 
There is no more fascinating figure in history than 
that of Marie Antoinette. 

G. P. U. 

Chicago, 1908. 



[vi] 



€0iitent^ 



I Marie Antoinette's Education . 13 

II Wedding Festivities ..... 25 

III Intrigue and Slander 32 

IV Employments of the Dauphiness . 47 

V The Countess du Barry .... ^^ 

VI The State Entry into Paris . . 64 

VII Court Etiquette 70 

VIII The Queen's Frivolity .... 80 

IX The Follies of Fashion . . . .85 

X The Queen's Fickleness .... 93 

XI Trianon 102 

XII Gambling and Theatricals . . . 108 

XIII Joy after Sorrow 119 

XIV The Queen as Mother .... 128 
XV The Diamond Necklace .... 137 

XVI Gathering Clouds . . . . . . 155 

Appendix 159 



[vii] 



SXltt^tration^ 



Marie Antoinette, Queen of France . Frontispiece 

Princess de Lamballe 96 

Mme. Adelaide 124 

Marie Antoinette and her Children . . . 132 

Louis XVI 144 




^^VERITE—RIEN SiUE VERITE, TOUTE LA FERITE'^ 

Chapter I 
Marie Antoinette s 'Education 



N the second of November, 1755, six 
months before the outbreak of the Seven 
Years* War, the south of Europe was 
shaken by a terrible earthquake. Lisbon 
was destroyed ; thirty thousand people perished ; 
the King and Queen of Portugal were forced to flee 
from their palace, which was reduced to ruins. 
This was All Souls' Day, and on that same day 
Marie Antoinette was born. Her parents were 
Francis Stephen of Tuscany and Maria Theresa of 
Austria. At her baptism she received the names 
Maria Antonia Josephine Johanna. 

The life at Maria Theresa's court was simple, 
almost homely in fact, and etiquette, though not 
entirely dispensed with in the palace and at Schon- 
brunn, was by no means rigorous. The Queen of 
France always spoke of her childhood with pleasure, 
yet her father, the Emperor Francis, seems to have 
been closer to his children than their mother. 

[13] 



* MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

Accustomed to rule and to be obeyed, the Empress 
inspired respect in her family also. They never 
forgot that she was the sovereign, a fact which often 
repressed their natural affection. Matters of policy 
and the cares of state, moreover, left Maria Theresa 
little time to devote herself to her children. The 
court physician was required to visit the archdukes 
and archduchesses each morning and bring her a 
detailed report as to their health and condition, but 
she often did not see them herself more than once 
a week. 

Their education was intrusted to tutors and 
governesses, in the selection of whom she showed 
the greatest care, and she also arranged in a general 
way their courses of study ; but as she had no time 
to see that her directions were carried out, the 
teachers naturally were over-indulgent toward the 
imperial children. Marie Antoinette's first govern- 
ess was dismissed because the Empress chanced to 
discover that she had been writing her pupil's copy 
for her. The Countess Brandeisen, who took her 
place, was devoted to her charge, who warmly 
returned the affection ; but she too spoiled the child. 
Whenever she did attempt to be firm and lecture 
the Httle Archduchess severely, a pleading word or 
a caress was enough to dispel her anger and make 
her as easy and indulgent as before. 

Marie Antoinette remained under the care of this 
[H] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S EDUCATION * 

lady until her twelfth year, and always considered it 
a misfortune that she had come to her so late and 
been forced to leave her so early. The Countess 
Lerchenfeld, who succeeded the Frau von Brandei- 
sen, had much more firmness and strength of char- 
acter, but she was sickly and irritable and quite 
ill-suited to assume the charge of a gay and lively 
young girl. 

The poet Metastasio gave the Archduchess 
lessons in Italian and taught her to speak that 
language with ease and fluency, also to read it with- 
out difficulty, and all her life she profited by the 
teachings of Gluck, who was her music-master ; but 
although she had the best teachers in other studies 
also, she made no progress except in these two 
branches — a fact of which Maria Theresa fre- 
quently complains in her letters. The Archduchess 
Antonia, as she was called in Vienna, wrote very 
ungrammatically, and her handwriting was almost 
illegible. Even her drawings had to be corrected 
by the governess before she dared exhibit them to 
her mother. Of geography she knew less than 
many a child of the common people, and she was 
almost wholly ignorant not only of general history 
but of that of her own race and country. She was 
not lacking in ability so much as in the desire to 
learn, but her ignorance was so great it could not 
escape notice ; and afterwards in France it caused 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

her to be considered stupid. Whatever may have 
been her mental deficiencies, she was eminently fitted 
to shine in social life. Even as a child her ease 
and grace of manner were remarkable, and she won 
the hearts of the people whenever she came in con- 
tact with them, by her beauty and kindness of 
heart. 

Although, as we have seen, Maria Theresa had 
not much time to give to her children, she liked to 
appear before the world as the devoted mother, and 
whenever eminent personages visited Vienna she 
usually received them in the midst of her numerous 
family. Allusions in the newspapers to the princes 
and princesses, praising their beauty or their clever- 
ness, gave her the greatest pleasure, and anecdotes 
concerning them were eagerly repeated by her loyal 
subjects. One winter day, for instance, when 
Antonia gave away all her spending-money to the 
poor, the story quickly spread from mouth to 
mouth ; and.the Viennese never tired of repeating the 
witty repartees of herself and sisters. It was quite 
true that the Empress's daughters could recite Latin 
on occasions, but the people little knew that the 
young princesses did not understand a word of 
what they repeated. 

For hundreds of years the reigning house of 
France had been forced to defend itself against the 
[i6] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S EDUCATION t 

Hapsburgs, who, by possessing Austria, Spain, and 
Holland, surrounded it on three sides. Gradually 
the situation had changed, however. The conquests 
of Richelieu and Mazarin, together with Louis the 
Fifteenth's victories and defeats, had altered the map 
of Europe. The Hapsburgs were driven forever 
from Spain. A new power, the house of Hohen- 
zollern, had arisen in Germany, and signs were not 
lacking that France and Austria were disposed to 
bury the past. Maria Theresa's father, the Em- 
peror Charles the Sixth, made the first advances, and 
Cardinal Fleury, Louis the Fifteenth's first minister 
during his minority, was not averse to accepting 
them. As for the young Empress, the hostility of 
the King of Prussia made such an alliance of the 
greatest importance to her. During the war 
between France and Prussia she offered a separate 
peace to France, and even after this had been con- 
cluded she continued her friendly overtures. His- 
tory tells us that the virtuous Maria Theresa even 
went so far as to send a letter to Madame de 
Pompadour in which she addressed her as " Dear 
friend." The Empress denies this in her private 
correspondence, but there is no doubt that whatever 
she did not care to do in person was done for her by 
Count Kaunitz, her confidential adviser. 

France showed herself by no means insensible to 
Austria's professions of friendship, and in the year 

[»7] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

1756 Louis the Fifteenth entered into an alliance 
with Maria Theresa that resulted in the Seven 
Years* War. Anxious to retain the allies she had 
just secured, the Empresses bold and ambitious 
mind conceived the plan of uniting the two houses 
by marriage. King Louis and his minister Choiseul 
agreed to this arrangement, and she selected her 
youngest daughter as the future Queen of France, 
hoping her beauty would do more toward winning 
over the neighboring Kingdom than her armies 
would ever be able to accomplish. This marriage 
between the Austrian Archduchess and the Dauphin 
of France was settled upon long before it was made 
known to the world. 

When Antonia was eleven years old Madame 
GeofFrin, the French savante, made a visit to Vienna, 
where she was most graciously received by the 
Empress and presented to all her daughters. The 
Frenchwoman was enchanted with the appearance of 
the youngest princess. 

" What a charming child ! " she exclaimed. " I 
should like to run away with her ! " 

" Take her ! '* returned Maria Theresa, greatly 
pleased ; "take her home with you, then ! " 

She gave Madame GeofFrin plainly to understand 

that she would like to have the child praised and 

admired by the learned and witty favorite of French 

salons, who did not fail to carry out the Empress's 
[18] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S EDUCATION * 

desires. Accordingly there was much talk in the 
capital the following Winter of the beauty and ami- 
ability of the future Dauphiness. Through his 
envoys Louis the Fifteenth kept himself informed 
of her development ; a famous artist was despatched 
to Vienna to paint her portrait, and such was the 
King's impatience to see it that the painter had to 
send his son to Versailles with the portrait the 
moment it was finished. 

Maria Theresa spared no pains to prepare her 
daughter for the position that awaited her. Among 
the French masters provided for the Archduchess 
was an actor, who was employed to read aloud to 
her. His reputation was not of the best, and his 
appointment met with great disapproval at the 
French court. The Ambassador at Vienna was 
directed to make this known to the Empress, who 
instantly dismissed the actor and begged that a 
priest might be sent from France as tutor to her 
daughter. Upon the recommendation of the Arch- 
bishop of Toulouse the Abbe Vermond was chosen 
for this position. On arriving at Vienna he pro- 
ceeded to lay out a complete course of study, which 
met with the entire approval of the Empress. He 
proposed to instruct the Archduchess in religious 
matters as well as in the history and literature of 
France, and to direct her attention especially to 
composition and spelling ; but in spite of the Abbe's 

[19] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH * 

good intentions he was quite unable to inspire Marie 
Antoinette with any love for learning. In his me- 
moirs he writes: " It was impossible to interest her in 
any subject whatsoever, although it was plain that she 
did not lack ability had she cared to exert herself." 

Marie Antoinette had not completed her tenth 
year when she lost her father. Just before setting 
out for Innspruck, where he was to attend the mar- 
riage of his second son, the Emperor asked for his 
daughter Antonia to be brought to him. " I feel 
that I must embrace the child once more," he said, 
as he folded her in his arms for the last time. A 
few days later, while seated at his son's wedding- 
feast, he suddenly fell dead. His death was a hard 
blow to his children, but harder still for the devoted 
wife, whose former trials sank into insignificance 
before this unexpected catastrophe. The Empress's 
resolute spirit, however, was not long prostrated, 
but after this she seemed to cling more closely to 
the youngest daughter. She kept the child beside 
her as she stitched on her own shroud ; talked of 
the transientness of earthly thrones; and once led 
her down into the vault where all the dead emperors 
were laid to rest. 

" These predecessors of mine received the hom- 
age that now is paid to me," she said ; " as they are 
forgotten, so I too shall one day be forgot." 



S MARIE ANTOINETTE'S EDUCATION t 

Too far-sighted and too well aware of conditions 
at the French court to permit herself to be blinded 
by the brilliant destiny that awaited her child, she 
could not help seeing how insecure was the throne 
the young Princess was to occupy. She talked to 
Marie Antoinette of her own stormy youth, of the 
rough road by which she had mounted to the throne, 
and of the hopes and illusions she had buried. The 
proud sovereign wept over her mistakes and mis- 
fortunes, especially the loss of Silesia, and suddenly 
clasping the girl to her heart, she exclaimed, 
" Promise me, my child, to think of me should 
misfortune ever befall you ! '* 

At other times she would take her to visit hospi- 
tals and asylums to show her the misery and suffer- 
ing that existed, and to impress upon her that work 
and the fulfilment of duty were the only means of 
securing lasting happiness and peace. Marie An- 
toinette could neither comprehend her mother's 
earnestness nor the joy she took in fulfilling her 
oath of sovereignty ; but the Empress remembered 
how she too had once craved only pleasure and 
amusement, and that only through sorrow had 
work grown dearer to her than all else. Her 
daughter's frivolity and lack of seriousness did 
not trouble her therefore ; possibly she may not 
have realized it till it was too late. She could not 
divest herself of a feeling of partiaHty for this 

[21] 



^ MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

joyous, affectionate child, whose faults were hidden 
under such charm. 

At last the time for Marie Antoinette's departure 
approached. The wedding was to be solemnized 
at Versailles, but a series of brilliant entertainments 
was held at the court in Vienna and the French 
embassy, as a farewell to the Archduchess. In the 
midst of all this gaiety, and despite the brilliant 
life that awaited her as future Queen of France, she 
and those about her were oppressed with gloomy 
forebodings. 

Doctor Gassner, a former priest, who claimed to 
be able to read the future, was living at that time in 
Vienna under the protection of the Empress ; she 
was much interested in him, though she had little 
faith in his prophetic powers. 

" Tell me," she said to him one day, " will my 
Antonia be happy ? " 

Gassner gazed long at the young Princess, turned 
pale, and made no answer. As the Empress urged 
him, however, he said at last : " Every shoulder has 
its cross to bear." 

For the last few days before her departure Maria 
Theresa could scarcely look at her daughter with- 
out her eyes filling with tears. She had Marie 
Antoinette's bed brought Into her own sleeping- 
chamber, held her in her lap, repeatedly kissed the 
fair hair and soft blue eyes, talked to her of her 

[22] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S EDUCATION * 

future, and begged her not to forget Austria now 
that France was to be her country. 

" How happy I should be if 1 could only keep 
you with me ! " she said ; " but I must consider the 
welfare of Austria and your happiness, which I trust 
is secured. Write to me often ; your letters shall 
be sprinkled with my tears. I cannot write like a 
Madame de Sevigne, but I love you as deeply as 
she loved her daughter." 

The formal proposal for the Archduchess's hand 
was presented by the French ambassador, the Mar- 
quis de Durford, April i6, 1770, and on the follow- 
ing day Marie Antoinette renounced all claims to 
the throne of Austria. The act of renunciation 
was signed at the royal palace in Vienna in the 
presence of the whole imperial family, the court, 
nobles, and deputies. There was an impressive 
silence as the Empress entered the great hall with 
the youthful bride. Both were deeply moved, 
and Maria Theresa's hand trembled so she could 
scarcely hold the pen to sign her name to the 
document. 

On the twenty-first of April Marie Antoinette 
took her departure from the Austrian capital. Her 
mother seemed unable to let her go ; choking with 
sobs she clung to her child, till the Princess finally 
tore herself away, hurried through the palace, and 
flung herself into the waiting coach, which could 

[^3] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

scarcely make its way through the crowded streets. 
The whole capital seemed in mourning. 

" All Vienna," says an eyewitness/' had assembled, 
mute with grief, to witness her departure. At last 
she appeared, leaning far back in the coach, her face 
bathed in tears, now covering her eyes with her 
handkerchief, now thrusting her head from the 
window for another glimpse of the home to which 
she was never to return. She made no attempt to 
conceal her grief nor her gratitude to the people 
who flocked about the coach to bid her farewell." 

The little Archduchess was only fourteen years 
old. It is no wonder she wept, not only for what 
she was leaving behind her, but at the thought of the 
new life that was approaching. 



[24] 



Chapter II 
Wedding Festivities 



ARIE ANTOINETTE was two weeks 
on her journey, which led through Mu- 
nich, Augsburg, and many other cities. 
3 Everywhere she was met by curious 




throngs, eager to see the Austrian Archduchess 
who was to be Dauphiness of France, and all were 
charmed with her loveliness. On passing the boun- 
daries of those provinces which were under her 
mother's rule, she lost her self-command and wept 
bitterly, crying : " Alas ! I shall never see my home 
again ! " 

At the French frontier, on a small island in the 
Rhine, a pavilion had been erected for this festive 
occasion, containing a salon and two small rooms, 
one for the Archduchess's Viennese attendants, the 
other for those French ladies who had been sent to 
meet her. Here the Princess had to be dressed anew 
throughout, even to her shoes and stockings. She 
must enter her future country clothed only in gar- 
ments provided by her new attendants. Her French 
lady-of-honor, the Countess Noailles, approached 

[25] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH * 

and made three stiff curtsies, but the warm-hearted 
and impulsive Marie Antoinette, paying no heed to 
the severe appearance of this lady, flung her arms 
about her neck and begged her to be her guide, 
comforter, and friend. The ladies who had accom- 
panied her from home came forward to kiss her 
hand for the last time. Weeping, she embraced 
them all and sent tender messages to her mother, 
sisters, and friends. Then, turning to the French 
ladies, she said, " Forgive me ! These tears are for 
my family and the fatherland that I am leaving. 
Henceforth I shall not forget that I am French." 
Her reception in France baffles description. As 
she had been adored in Germany, so beyond the 
Rhine, her youth and beauty won all hearts in spite 
of the universal prejudice against the Hapsburgs. 
Her delicate loveliness and her charm of manner 
aroused a perfect frenzy of enthusiasm. Every- 
where the road was strewn with flowers, and young 
girls in holiday dress off'ered her bouquets. The 
country folk crowded about the carriage to catch 
a glimpse of her face, shouting as with one voice, 
" How beautiful our Dauphiness is ! " At Stras- 
burg, which had been captured by Louis the Four- 
teenth, she was met by Louis the Fifteenth's envoy 
extraordinary, and amid the thunder of cannon and 
pealing of bells she made her entry into the old 

city. Triumphal arches had been erected in the 
[26] 



WEDDING FESTIVITIES 



streets through which she was to pass. The 
women scattered flov/ers, or, dressed as shepherd- 
esses, offered her fruit. Games were held for the 
amusement of the people. Fountains flowed with 
wine, and presents were given to the poor. 

Some miles from Chalons a country priest had 
come out with his parishioners to greet the Princess. 
He had chosen the Song of Solomon as the text 
for his intended discourse, but when he beheld 
Marie Antoinette he was so overcome with sur- 
prise and emotion that he could not get beyond 
the first word. In vain he racked his brain, gazed 
up into the sky, down at his feet, then all about 
him again ; his memory had forsaken him com- 
pletely. Marie Antoinette, perceiving the poor 
man's difficulty, suppressed a laugh, and, taking 
him kindly by the hand, accepted the nosegay he 
held out to her, with the sweetest and prettiest 
of smiles. At this his presence of mind returned 
to him, if not his homily. 

" Madame," he said admiringly, " it Is not strange 
that my memory fails me. At the sight of such 
beauty even Solomon himself would have forgotten 
his holy song and thought no more of his fair 
Egyptian." 

As she neared the end of her journey amid the 
shouts of the populace, but not without some "in- 
ward trepidation, the royal family waited impatiently 

1^7] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

at Compiegne to welcome her. Louis the Fif- 
teenth, particularly, was most anxious to see her. 
As soon as she perceived the King she sprang from 
the coach and hastened to fling herself at his 
feet. Louis regarded her with more curiosity than 
fatherly interest, and found her even more beauti- 
ful than he had expected from the portrait that had 
been sent him. He raised her to her feet and 
embraced her, Marie Antoinette coloring under his 
caresses and curious glances. The Dauphin mean- 
while stood beside the King even more embarrassed 
than his bride, and in his confusion was unable to 
utter a word. At last he stepped forward, and, 
according to the custom of the French court, 
silently and coldly kissed her on the right cheek. 

Followed by the acclamations of the people the 
royal party rode to St. Denis, where the Dauphi- 
ness was presented to Louis the Fifteenth's second 
daughter, Louise, who had retired to a Carmelite 
convent at that place. At La Muette Marie An- 
toinette was welcomed by Clothilde and Elizabeth, 
her young sisters-in-law, and later that same even- 
ing they reached Versailles. On the following day, 
the fifteenth of May, the nuptials were to be 
celebrated. 

At ten o'clock in the morning Marie Antoinette 

entered the marble hall of the palace, where she 

was received by the Dauphin. The King advanced 
[28] 



WEDDING FESTIVITIES 



toward them, and, followed by her attendants, 
all repaired to the royal chapel, where the young 
couple, deeply moved, knelt before the altar and 
plighted their troth. After the ceremony the mar- 
riage contract was signed, and it was afterwards 
recalled by the superstitious that the bride had 
partly obliterated her signature by a large blot 
of ink. 

Scarcely were the wedding ceremonies over when 
a frightful storm arose and extinguished the magnifi- 
cent illuminations which had been prepared at Ver- 
sailles. The curious throngs which had flocked 
thither from Paris, filling the streets and surging 
through the palace ^gardens, were forced to flee in 
confusion, pursued by torrents of rain, terrific flashes 
of lightning, and peals of thunder. 

Within the palace the festivities continued in all 
their splendor, though the great halls also contained 
their storm clouds. To do honor to Maria Theresa, 
Louis the Fifteenth had ordered that her cousin, 
the Princess of Lorraine and the only relative of 
the Dauphiness in France, should be assigned a 
place immediately following the royal family. This 
caused serious offence among the great nobles and 
dukes of France ; many remained away from the ball 
entirely, and others obstinately refused to permit the 
Princess of Lorraine to precede them. It required 
a special command from the King to force them 

[29] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH * 

to obedience, and immediately after the ball they 
ordered their coaches and returned to Paris. 

A succession of brilliant entertainments followed 
the wedding. The magnificent costumes, glittering 
jewels, splendid equipages, loaded tables, and bril- 
liant illuminations were in grim contrast with the 
conditions prevailing in the capital and throughout 
the country, where the people were suffering from 
lack of bread. Nevertheless crowds flocked to Ver- 
sailles every evening to admire the innumerable 
lights suspended in the park and the palace gardens, 
like stars in a clear night. For fourteen days the 
festivities continued without intermission. Only 
when the music had ceased and the lights died out 
was it known that the wedding celebration had cost 
the treasury twenty millions of francs, a sum which 
of course was never refunded. 

"What did you think of my entertainments?" 
asked the King of his Minister of Finance, who 
is said to have replied : 

" They were priceless. Your Majesty." 

Paris also wished to do honor to the occasion 
with a public festival, and a great display of fire- 
works was arranged on the Place Louis Quinze. 
Unfortunately necessary precautions were not taken. 
The Bengal lights exploded, and a frightful panic 
ensued. There were no police present ; the gen- 
darmes, of whom there were far too few, strove in 
[30] 



WEDDING FESTIVITIES 



vain to maintain order. The scaffolding which sur- 
rounded the statue of Louis the Fifteenth burst 
into flames. Many were trampled to death or 
badly injured in the press or forced into the river. 
Thirty-two dead bodies were found afterwards. 
The Dauphiness was on her way to Paris to see 
the fireworks when she heard of the calamity. She 
immediately gave all the money she had with her 
to be distributed among the sufferers, nor was the 
Dauphin less distressed over the disaster which had 
formed the climax of their wedding festivities. He 
sent his whole month*s allowance to the Chief of 
Police in Paris for the relief of the victims, an 
example which was followed by many of the princes 
and nobles. Many regarded this unfortunate event 
as an omen of a yet more disastrous future. 



[31] 



Chapter III 
. Intrigue and Slander 




ELDOM, indeed, has a court of such high 
standing as that which Marie Antoinette 
entered been so given over to plot and in- 
trigue, to bitter party strife, envy, hatred, 
and boundless thirst for power. In the year 1770 
two factions were struggling for supremacy. One, 
and at that time the strongest, was the party of the 
Prime Minister Choiseul ; the other was headed 
by the Chancellor Maupeou and the Dauphin's 
governess, the Countess de Marsan. His tutor, the 
Duke de Vauguyon, also belonged to this party, 
and Maupeou had finally succeeded in winning 
over to his side the King's favorite, the Countess 
du Barry, who had never forgiven Choiseul the 
proud, unbending attitude he had always maintained 
toward her. 

Earnestly as Marie Antoinette may have wished 
to avoid taking sides, it was quite impossible. Her 
mother had advised her to join ChoiseuFs party, 
and since he had been the one to arrange her mar- 
riage, a feeling of gratitude naturally prompted her 
[32] 



INTRIGUE AND SLANDER 



to place confidence in him. This was enough to 
expose her to the hatred and persecution of the 
rival faction, some of whom tried to weaken her 
popularity by malicious slanders, while others, more 
prudent, exerted themselves to acquire influence over 
her. Before she had been a month at Versailles she 
had become the object of a thousand intrigues. 

First it was planned to get rid of her tutor, Abbe 
Vermond, who had accompanied her to France, and 
this failing, an attempt was made to offend her lady- 
in-waiting the Countess de Noailles by marked per- 
sonal insult. No pains were spared to prejudice 
Louis the Fifteenth against her and to estrange her 
husband. 

The Dauphin should naturally have been her 
guide and protector, but one of such weakness of 
character should have been in leading-strings him- 
self. He had been a delicate child, but several 
years of quiet country life at the Chateau Bellevue, 
whither he had been sent with the Countess de 
Marsan, had restored him to health. Young Louis 
was scarcely fourteen years old when he became 
Dauphin, and but sixteen at the time of his mar- 
riage. When Marie Antoinette came to France 
this credulous youth was completely under the in- 
fluence of his tutor, the Duke de Vauguyon, who 
was by no means inclined to relinquish his hold 
under the new regim.e or give up his pupil after he 
3 [33] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

became a husband. No means were too low for him 
to employ against the Dauphiness to gain his ends. 
He maintained the right of entrance at all times to 
the young couple's apartments, and succeeded in re- 
moving Marie Antoinette's rooms as far as possible 
from her husband's. He bribed servants, listened 
at the Dauphiness's doors, and made all sorts of 
accusations against her to the King. He carried his 
system of espionage so far that Marie Antoinette, 
outraged and indignant, said to him at last, " The 
Dauphir^ no longer needs a tutor nor I a spy. I 
beg you, therefore, let me see no more of you." 

With Louis the Fifteenth lived three of his un- 
married daughters — Adelaide, Victoria, and Sophie. 
The fourth, Louise, had retired to a convent, yet 
the veil that separated her from the world did not 
entirely conceal it from her eyes. Cardinal Fleury, 
who had had the honor of improving the state 
finances at the beginning of Louis the Fifteenth's 
reign, had pressed his economies so far that he had 
induced the King to permit his daughters to be 
educated in a convent like any ordinary pupils, with 
the result that at the age of twelve the princesses 
did not know the alphabet, and they were scarcely 
able to read when they returned to Versailles. Their 
brother, the Dauphin at that time, at once devoted 
himself to them, and with his aid they endeavored 
[34] 



t INTRIGUE AND SLANDER t 

to make up for the deficiencies of their convent 
education. 

The eldest, Adelaide, was by far the most gifted. 
She had been beautiful in her youth ; but seldom 
does beauty vanish leaving so few traces. Her 
manners were awkward, her voice harsh, and there 
was an almost masculine hardness in her nature that 
was far from pleasing. She had a most insatiable 
thirst for knowledge ; played all manner of in- 
struments, from a bugle to a jew*s-harp ; studied 
Italian, English, and the higher mathematics, and 
understood clock-making and the use of the turning- 
lathe. What is even more to her credit, since it 
was not usual at that time, she wrote the French 
language fluently and correctly, and was well versed 
in the history of her country. She was the King's 
favorite child, and would have liked to play a promi- 
nent part at court, but she lacked the necessary 
qualifications. Naturally imperious and tenacious 
of her rank, she suffered unspeakably at being 
treated as a nonentity. Having no power she re- 
venged herself for slights that wounded her, by 
pin pricks, which she administered right and left 
whenever it was possible. 

Princess Victoria was handsomer than her elder 
sister, and naturally kind and gentle. If she had 
only possessed the courage to follow the dictates of 
her heart, she would no doubt have made the life at 

l3S] 



* MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

court far pleasanter than it was. She was indifferent, 
however, not to say apathetic ; in fact there was but 
one real will among the four princesses, and that 
was Adelaide's. 

Sophie, the youngest, was most unfortunate in her 
appearance, and so painfully shy that one might be 
with her a whole year and never hear her speak a 
word.' The only times when this eccentric prin- 
cess became affable and communicative were during 
thunder storms, her fear of which was so great she 
would forget her shyness at a flash of lightning or a 
peal of thunder, and cling fast to any one who hap- 
pened to be near, regardless of rank or etiquette. 
In order to avoid looking at people and yet be able 
to recognize them when occasion demanded, she had 
acquired the habit of casting timid side glances, like 
a hare. 

For some time after the death of their mother, 
Maria Leczinska, these princesses had taken her 
place at court. The King, completely absorbed in 
his favorites, saw but little of his own family. Every 
morning he visited Princess Adelaide's apartments 
by way of a secret staircase, and often drank his 
coffee with her there. On his arrival the Princess 
pulled a bell to inform Victoria of the King's pres- 
ence, and she in turn gave her sister Sophie the same 
signal. The rooms occupied by the princesses were 
so large, and so many must be traversed for these 
[36] 



INTRIGUE AND SLANDER 



daily meetings, that although Sophie hastened with 
all speed, arriving breathless and almost exhausted, 
she often had barely time to greet her father, who 
never stayed long in Adelaide's salon. Every after- 
noon at six, all the princes and princesses made a 
formal visit to the King, attended by their suites 
and followed by pages and guards bearing tapers. 
Strictest etiquette was observed at these audiences, 
which seldom lasted more than a quarter of an hour. 
The three princesses were very pious, but extremely 
chary of putting their religion into practice, and far 
from amiable or attractive, as we have seen. They 
held themselves aloof from every one, and were 
awkward and embarrassed when forced to appear in 
public. They were ill at ease even with their father 
whom they saw every day, and never enjoyed the 
respect to which their rank entitled them. Secretly, 
however, they were involved in intrigues of every 
description, so anxious were they to preserve the 
appearance of a power they had never possessed. 
Though not yet old (Adelaide was thirty-eight 
when Marie Antoinette came to Versailles), they 
were old maids with all the usual failings of spin- 
sters ; yet in spite of their faults it was natural 
that the young girl should attach herself to them. 
On leaving home her mother had said to her : 
" Depend upon your aunts. They are virtuous 
and accomplished, and you are fortunate to have 

[37] 



.® MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

them. I hope you will prove yourself worthy of 
their friendship." 

After the death of the former Dauphiness the 
princesses had held first rank at court, and there is 
no doubt that Adelaide at least secretly hated the 
child who had displaced her. Nevertheless, the 
princesses welcomed the young Austrian at first 
with every appearance of friendship ; not, it may 
easily be believed, from any feeling of duty toward 
her, and still less from any deference to her youth- 
ful charm, but most likely with a deliberate pur- 
pose. Jealous of the new star that had appeared 
on the horizon, they wanted to keep watch on their 
rival, that they might be the better able to attack 
her. At all events an intimacy sprang up at once 
between Marie Antoinette and the older ladies, the 
effect of which was soon apparent. The princesses 
cared little for court life ; they lived in a little world 
of their own, the atmosphere of which was impreg- 
nated with scandal. Stranger as she was, Marie 
Antoinette allowed herself to be led into sharing 
their malicious gossip. Naturally gay and with a 
keen eye for the ludicrous in people, she was not the 
one to weigh her words. Believing herself quite safe 
in the intimacy of their little circle, she mimicked 
the peculiarities of even the greatest personages or 
laughed in their faces, while her harmless jests v>^ere 
repeated broadcast and deliberately misconstrued. 
[38] 



INTRIGUE AND SLANDER 



The Dauphiness*s gaiety did not last long, how- 
ever. She soon became reserved and embarrassed 
like her aunts, did not venture to address a word to 
any one of rank or importance, avoided as much 
as possible the duties of her position, or when 
forced to fulfil them appeared nervous and ill at 
ease. " Not content with ruling the Dauphiness 
herself,'* wrote the Austrian ambassador to Maria 
Theresa, " the princesses attempt to control every 
one in her service. They trample on her preroga- 
tives and disregard the differences in rank that should 
exist between the household of the Dauphiness and 
their own." 

Maria Theresa was alarmed at this. She wrote 
to her daughter : 

" I am constantly informed that you do nothing except 
by the orders of your aunts. I have the greatest esteem 
for them, but they have never known how to win the re- 
spect either of the people or of their own family. And you 
elect to follow their example ! Are my affection and coun- 
sel less worthy of consideration than theirs ? I confess the 
matter troubles me greatly. Remember the approbation 
you have met with from the world and — though I do say 
it — the part I have played ! You should listen to me, 
then, rather than to them when our counsels differ ; for I 
do not agree with the worthy princesses, much as I honor 
them for their virtues. Again I repeat, they have never 
been able to make themselves popular or beloved, but by 

[39] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

their habit of yielding to criticism and their excessive good- 
nature, have become peevish and tiresome, and made them- 
selves the centre of intrigue and slander. Can I see you 
follov/ing the same course and say nothing ? Your silence 
on this point grieves me much and leaves me small hope of 
any change in your conduct.'* 

Nevertheless it came. Little by little Marie 
Antoinette began to see that her mother was right. 
She could not at once break the ties her youth and 
isolated position had led her to form and which 
daily companionship had strengthened, but her con- 
fidence was shaken. Merely from force of habit 
she continued for a time to be guided by the prin- 
cesses, but their influence gradually weakened, and 
after a time she yielded to them only from fear or 
policy. The older women did not accept the loss 
of their power over their niece with equanimity, and 
instead of criticising her secretly as before, they now 
began to talk about her openly. So anxious were 
they to find pretexts for their persecution that they 
complained to the King one day that the Dauphiness 
had presented herself before them without ceremony 
and in a simple morning dress. The King repre- 
sented to her that such disregard of ceremony was 
a breach of the respect due to his daughters, adding 
that such simplicity would make her unpopular 
with the French merchants. 

"My state robes,** replied Marie Antoinette, 
[40] 



t INTRIGUE AND SLANDER t 

" shall be as magnificent as those of any former 
Dauphiness or Queen of France if Your Majesty 
so desires ; but I beg my dear grandfather's indul- 
gence as to my morning costumes." 

The aunts employed every possible means to set 
the court against her, and every trifle was made food 
for gossip. A great ado was caused by their stir- 
ring up a quarrel between Marie Antoinette's tutor, 
Vermond, and Madame de Marsan, the governess 
of the little French princesses. Princess Adelaide 
declared that her nieces had received a better edu- 
cation than that of the Austrian archduchesses, and 
were far stronger physically, thanks to their reli- 
gious training ; while Marie Antoinette and her 
sisters, who had been brought up in idleness, with 
none but worldly interests, were thin and delicate, 
as well as weak in mind and body. 

But Marie Antoinette was not without her faults ; 
she was too frivolous and laughter-loving. She re- 
fused to wear bodices, and sometimes neglected to 
clean her teeth ; she laughed and gossiped with the 
younger ladies of the court, ignored the protests of 
her bed-chamber women, soiled her clothes, and kept 
her room in continual disorder. 

The malice of the aunts was a serious obstacle in 
the path of Maria Theresa's daughter, for when 
they found themselves forced to resign the hope of 
governing the Dauphiness they determined to ruin 

[41] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH * 

the Queen, a purpose in which they unfortunately- 
succeeded only too well. If their influence had 
been unfortunate their hatred was fatal. At the 
Chateau Bellevue, where the princesses lived dur- 
ing the reign of Louis the Sixteenth, all were gladly 
welcomed who could tell anything to the discredit 
of Marie Antoinette, and Adelaide's inveterate ani- 
mosity pursued her to the end. 

The Queen's enemies were well aware that they 
had an ally in the old Princess, and her house be- 
came the centre of all the intrigues. It was she 
who gave her niece the nickname of " the Austrian 
woman," and a large part of the calumnies that were 
circulated throughout the country to blacken Marie 
Antoinette's reputation had their origin at Bellevue. 

For a long time before his marriage the Dauphin 
had been greatly influenced by his aunt Adelaide. 
She had cheered his solitary childhood and given 
him almost a mother's love ; and even as King he 
continued to hold far too high an opinion of her 
wisdom and judgment. She pointed out to him the 
dangers of an alliance with Austria, awakened half- 
slumbering memories of his father, who had been 
slighted and treated almost as a child by Choiseul, 
and whispered to him an old rumor that his death 
had been caused by poison, hinting that the minister 
had had a hand in the affair. The solitary country 
life that Louis had led in his childhood and early 
[42] 



INTRIGUE AND SLANDER 



youth made him timid, awkward, and self-conscious. 
He had wished to remain Duke de Berry all his 
life, and wept when addressed for the first time as 
Dauphin. Without any ties with the outer world 
and ignored by his grandfather, he devoted himself 
to his favorite occupations, and was known only by 
the contrast of his life to that of the court at Ver- 
sailles. His natural energy craving some outlet, he 
had a tower built in which a forge was set up, and 
there he spent his time. The Countess du Barry 
called him a "fat, ill-mannered youth"; and Count 
Mercy-Argenteau, the Austrian ambassador, speaks 
of him as returning from his work dripping with 
perspiration and looking as exhausted as if he had 
come from a field of battle. The courtiers ignored 
this silent, thrifty youth who dwelt without the 
realm of beauty ; but the people called him " the 
chosen one," and he loved to visit the peasants on 
his country walks, and to talk or shake hands with 
them. Having two brothers more brilliant and 
clever than himself, he soon saw how much more 
favor was shown to them, which added to his 
natural reserve and awkwardness, and filled his 
heart with bitterness. At such times Aunt Ade- 
laide had taken him to her heart and comforted 
him, which strengthened their intimate and confi- 
dential relations. 

Louis was honest and just, and loved the people, 

[43] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

but he lacked the necessary firmness to inspire re- 
spect. His kindness of heart often degenerated into 
weakness, and his frankness into violent outbursts 
of passion. This Prince also had a plebeian body, 
— he was short and stout. His head was fine and he 
bore himself with dignity, but the rounding forehead 
and dull prominent eyes gave him an appearance 
of stupidity, which was enhanced by his uncertain 
gait and awkward manner. His voice was harsh 
when it did not break and become shrill, and his 
tangled hair stood out on all sides, for he had a 
habit of constantly running his hands through it. 
He went about in dirty clothes, with grimy hands, 
and was altogether lacking in those outward marks 
that are supposed to stamp the descendant of an 
ancient and noble race. He carefully avoided 
women, for their society annoyed him ; even after 
his feelings had been aroused toward the lovely 
being who had been chosen to share his lot, it was 
long before his love was able to conquer his shy- 
ness. " He is not like others,'* Louis the Fifteenth 
said of him ; and a courtier once dubbed him, not 
without reason, " the best and most uninteresting 
man in the kingdom/' 

At the wedding banquet the Dauphin had eaten 
with his usual voracious appetite. His grandfather 
could not refrain from saying to him, " Do not 
overload your stomach so 1 " 
[44] 



INTRIGUE AND SLANDER 



" Why not ? " he asked. " I always sleep better 
when I have eaten well." 

When they retired, Louis followed his young 
wife to the door of the bridal chamber. There he 
halted, bade her good-night with a courteous bow, 
and hurried away as if afraid of her. 

This curious introduction to married life was told 
at court with various additions and much laughter, 
and the ridicule which attached itself to the Dau- 
phin on his wedding night still followed Louis the 
Sixteenth even as husband. 

The defects of his education and the unfortunate 
influence of Adelaide were the chief causes of his 
reserve toward Marie Antoinette, but at Versailles 
it was attributed solely to his disHke of a union with 
an Austrian princess. His bride, who found her- 
self with no other occupation than to watch her 
husband eat and drink with a prodigious appetite, 
felt a sinking at her heart she did not understand. 
It was little consolation to be informed that the 
Dauphin had declared himself well pleased with 
her and thought her beautiful. How small a place 
she occupied in his thoughts may be seen from his 
diary for the week in which the marriage occurred. 

" Sunday, May 13, 1770: Left Versailles. Dined and 
slept with M. de Saint Florentin at Compiegne. 
" Monday, May 14 : Met the Dauphiness. 

[45] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

"Tuesday, May 15 ; Dined this evening at La Muette. 
Slept at Versailles. 

"Wednesday, May 16 : My wedding. Party in the gal- 
lery. State banquet in concert-hall. 

"Thursday, May 17: Opera of ' Perseus.' 

"Friday, May 18: Stag-hunt. Large herd at Belle- 
Image. Shot one. 

"Saturday, May 19: Ball in concert-hall. Illumina- 
tions." 

The honeymoon ends in the diary with the re- 
mark ; " Had a pain in my stomach." 



[46] 



Chapter IV 
Employments of the Dauphiness 

N spite of the plots and intrigues that were 
woven about Marie Antoinette, her first expe- 
rience in France was by no means unhappy. 
For a time the King seemed rejuvenated by the 
presence of the lovely, innocent child who brought 
a breath of purity into the tainted atmosphere of the 
court. Her levity and childishness were excused 
on account of her youth, and he overwhelmed her 
with gifts. On her arrival she had been presented 
with a riviere of diamonds ; at the marriage he had 
given her a casket of jewels, and he afterwards sent 
her the former Dauphiness's collection of pearls and 
diamonds, with a collar that had belonged to Anne 
of Austria. All were charmed with her, — the popu- 
lace, members of her household, even old courtiers ; 
and Choiseul, who had long been interested in her, 
yielded completely to her fascination. 

But the Austrian ambassador. Count Mercy- 
Argenteau, who was thoroughly acquainted with 
the situation at Versailles and the character of the 
French people, realized that all this admiration was 

[47] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH * 

not without its dangers. There were too many 
about her whose interest it was to injure her, and 
the Princess's attractions were too brilliant not to 
be dangerous. From the first, moreover, she made 
no attempt to conceal her feelings or weigh her 
words. The very frankness that was one of her 
greatest charms became a source of danger ; her con- 
fiding nature made her an easy victim to intrigue, 
her kindness of heart left her defenceless against 
the schemers who sought her favor. The following 
letter to her mother shows us how her days were 
spent : 

" Your Majesty is so kind as to wish to know how I 
spend my time. I rise about half-past nine or ten, dress 
myself, and say my morning prayers, after which I break- 
fast and go to my aunts, where I usually meet the King. 
At eleven I have my hair dressed ; at twelve any of the 
court who choose may enter ; I rouge myself and wash my 
hands before all eyes, after which the gentlemen retire. 
The ladies remain while I make my toilette. At noon if 
the King is at Versailles I go with him, my husband, and 
the aunts to mass ; otherwise I go alone with the Dauphin, 
but always at the same hour. After service we dine in the 
presence of the whole court. This does not take more 
than an hour and a half, for we both eat very fast. After 
that I go to the Dauphin, and if he is busy I return to my 
own room and read, write, or do needlework. I am em- 
broidering a waistcoat for the King, which does not pro- 
gress very well, but I hope with God's grace it may be 

[48] 



* DAUPHINESS'S EMPLOYMENTS t 

finished in a few years. At three o'clock I go again to my 
aunts. At four the Abbe comes, and at five my music 
master, who remains till six. At half-past six I go to walk 
if the weather is fine, when my husband often accompanies 
me ; or else we have cards from seven to nine, at which 
hour, if the King is not present, the aunts come and sup 
with us, but when he is here we go to him. We then sit 
around and wait for the King, who comes at a quarter be- 
fore eleven. While I am waiting I usually sit on a great 
sofa and sleep ; and if he does not come we go to bed at 
eleven." 

It was a life filled with trivial social duties but 
devoid of any serious occupation. Marie Antoinette 
often found so little opportunity to write to her 
mother that she was forced to do it during her 
toilette. If this was the case with so precious a duty, 
it is plain there must have been even less time to 
devote to her education, which, as we have seen, 
was by no means complete, and in the progress of 
which she took no interest. This was one of Maria 
Theresa^s greatest anxieties. She realized too late 
how negligent she had been in the matter, and 
wished her daughter now to repair her deficiencies. 
She ordered that a daily record should be kept and 
sent to her from time to time as to the employment 
of the Princess's time, — a request which greatly 
embarrassed Marie Antoinette, whose distaste for 
study and love of pleasure had led her frequently 

'4 - [49] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

to neglect those hours reserved for instruction in 
the well-filled programme of the day. Not that she 
was absolutely idle, but in the middle of a lesson 
she would perhaps be seized with a desire to go for 
a walk when the sun was shining, or stop to chatter 
about something quite foreign to the subject of 
study, or jump up and begin to play with her lap- 
dog. She did not know what to say to her mother. 
Too honest to lie, she found it hard to tell the 
truth. Maria Theresa was insistent, however, and 
wrote with a severity that was not always merited. 
She said on one occasion : 

" Try to store your mind with good reading; it is most 
important, and doubly so for you who are not well versed 
in other branches or even proficient in accomplishments, 
such as music, drawing, and painting. This is why I lay 
such stress upon reading, and I wish Abbe Vermond to 
send me a report every month as to what you have read 
and what your plans for study are." 

This letter was too severe. It overshot the mark, 
and Marie Antoinette was deeply wounded. "The 
Empress will make people think me a perfect 
simpleton," she said to her tutor, when she showed 
it to him ; but after she had become a little calmer, 
she added : " I will write to my mother that it is 
impossible for me to pursue any regular studies 
during the carnival, but in Lent I will begin to be 
industrious.*' 
[50] 



t DAUPHINESS'S EMPLOYMENTS t 

Maria Theresa was not to be appeased with 
promises, however. In her next letter she returns 
to the subject: 

" I am waiting impatiently for the return post to hear of 
your reading and your diligence. At your age it is pardon- 
able to be fond of amusement, but to make pleasure your 
sole occupation, to accomplish nothing useful or profitable, 
to fritter away your time in walks and visits — ah ! my 
child, you will soon learn the emptiness of such a life and 
bitterly regret not having made better use of your opportu- 
nities. Your letters grow worse and worse. In ten months 
you should have improved greatly in your spelling. I was 
really mortified when I found your letters to the court ladies 
had passed through many hands. You must practise so 
that your handwriting will improve and become more 
uniform." 

Lack of regular occupation was by no means 
Maria Theresa's only subject of reproof; every 
letter from home was full of reproaches. Marie 
Antoinette seemed to see the troubled, care-lined 
brow of the mother she so longed to meet in spite 
of her severity, and wept at the sight of her hand- 
writing. Beset by enemies and surrounded with 
spies, alone in a profligate court, without a guardian 
or even a friend in whom she could confide, her 
thoughts turned tenderly and longingly toward 
home. 

[5>] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

Not long after Marie Antoinette's arrival in 
France the Dauphin's brother, the Count de 
Provence, formed an alliance with the eldest daugh- 
ter of the King of Piedmont; and the following year 
the Count d'Artois married her younger sister. 
The Dauphin and Dauphiness with the two brothers 
and their wives now formed a little circle of their 
own, taking no part in the licentious pleasures of the 
court and exciting no attention. The Count de 
Provence, who was the scholar of the family, had no 
sympathy with the Dauphin in any way, and never 
forgave his having deprived him of the throne by 
being born first. The Countess too would have 
liked her husband to be the heir, and could not 
understand why an Austrian Archduchess should 
have been chosen as Dauphiness instead of a 
Princess of Savoy. Marie Antoinette had little con- 
fidence in either, as may be imagined, but outwardly 
they were on no unfriendly footing. 

The Countess d'Artois was more kind-hearted 
than her sister, and modest and simple in her tastes, 
but was regarded as a simpleton whose only use in 
life was to supply the house of Bourbon with heirs, 
and so insignificant that once when she was danger- 
ously ill it was said at court that her funeral would 
be the only occasion on which she had ever attracted 
any attention. Handsome and courtly but pleasure- 
loving and dissipated, the Count d'Artois was the 
[52] 



t DAUPHINESS'S EMPLOYMENTS t 

leading spirit in all amusements. He spent his 
time at Versailles or Paris, gambling or horse-racing, 
at balls or the opera, and imitated as far as possible 
the example of his grandfather. Nevertheless the 
Dauphin preferred his frivolity to the cold and cal- 
culating reserve of the Count de Provence. The 
marks of attention which Marie Antoinette at first 
received she owed almost exclusively to this gay 
young brother-in-law, the only one of her new family 
whose tastes and temperament were like her own. 

To vary the monotony of their life the young 
people began to act little plays in the court theatre, 
the Dauphin seated in an arm-chair, acting as audi- 
ence. He yawned with ennui if the play went well, 
but became attentive and began to laugh and enjoy 
himself when the actors failed in their parts. One 
day in the middle of a performance loud snores in- 
formed the young artists of the impression their 
efforts were making on him. Furious at his lack of 
interest, Marie Antoinette cried angrily, " If our 
acting does not please you, go away ! You shall 
have back your money." 

Opportunity for revenge for this indifference to 
art soon offered itself. The Dauphin, who found 
dancing very hard work, plucked up courage one 
evening to attempt a quadrille, but made so many 
blunders he was besought not to dance with any one 
again till he had practised it more. He therefore 

[53] 



® MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

began dancing in private, and gave strict orders that 
no one should be admitted to the apartment on any 
pretext whatsoever. Breathing heavily and dripping 
with perspiration His Royal Highness was capering 
about to the strains of a violin one day, when suddenly 
a shrill whistle startled him, and looking up, the 
dancer discovered his younger brother in the gallery, 
doubled up with laughter. The Dauphin did not 
stop, but shook his fist angrily at the disrespect- 
ful Count ; and when he met him later in another 
part of the palace he asserted his birthright by ad- 
ministering a sound box on the ear, a blow which 
the Count promptly returned. At that moment 
Marie Antoinette appeared on the scene and at- 
tempted to separate the combatants, but in the heat 
of the scuffle she received a scratch herself, where- 
upon the two brothers quickly made peace. This 
ended the Dauphin's attempts to learn the art of 
dancing ; and the theatrical performances, having 
come to the ears of Marie Antoinette's tutor and 
the aunts, were also promptly suppressed. 



[54] 



Chapter V 
The Countess du Barry 



D) 



RINCESS ADELAIDE was not the only 
one who disapproved of an alliance with 
the house of Hapsburg, for the marriage 
had generally been regarded with disfavor 
throughout France, and Marie Antoinette's appear- 
ance had been expected with no pleasure. At first 
the people were completely won over by her inno- 
cent gaiety and youthful loveliness. The Marquise 
de Pompadour's having yielded to the temptation 
of an alliance with Maria Theresa was partially for- 
given ; Choiseul, whose zeal had brought about the 
union, was less loudly blamed. But the court was 
not so easily appeased. All the contending factions 
were agreed on this point ; even the old princesses 
and Louis's favorites objected to the marriage because 
it was the work of Choiseul, whom they hated. 

Completely under the dominion of his favorites, 
Louis the Fifteenth, after the death of Madame de 
Pompadour, fell into the toils of the woman known 
to history as the Countess du Barry, and crowned 
his scandalous career by elevating this person to the 

[55] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

rank of countess and permitting her to live in the 
royal palace. At the time of the Dauphiness's 
arrival the King was a mere tool in this woman's 
hands, and she was one of the first obstacles Marie 
Antoinette encountered in her nev/ pathway. On 
her first evening with the royal family she was com- 
pelled to sit publicly at the same table with her, an 
indignity which the youthful Princess deeply re- 
sented, though she gave no sign of anger at the 
time. After the meal was over one of the courtiers, 
thinking to entrap her, asked what she thought of 
the Countess du Barry. " I think she is hand- 
some," replied Marie Antoinette, frankly — one of 
the first and last times she was ever known to be 
prudent in her remarks. 

The Countess was not a malicious person ; she 
was generous and far from vindictive, but extremely 
vain, and she craved those marks of homage to 
which she was well aware she could lay no claim. 
It had been her highest ambition to be received at 
court, and this had been attained ; ministers, ambas- 
sadors, and princes visited her. From the moment 
of her arrival on French soil the Dauphiness found 
herself shoulder to shoulder with this " stupid and 
shameless creature," as she called the Countess. 
She met her at La Muette that first evening ; after- 
wards at Compiegne, at Versailles, and on all pos- 
sible occasions. She could never bring herself to 

[56] 



t THE COUNTESS DU BARRY t 

any pretence of friendliness, however, with the 
Countess, nor did she ever condescend to address a 
single word to her. The Dauphin shared this 
aversion for his grandfather's favorite, and concealed 
it as little as did his wife. 

The Countess du Barry was deeply offended at 
the hostile attitude of the young couple ; and her 
friends, who had nothing to hope for from the 
Dauphiness, did their best to malign her. With 
her youthful charms, aided by the support of 
Choiseul and Maria Theresa's counsels, they feared 
she might acquire an influence over the King that 
would prove dangerous to their own party. There 
was much talk of Austrian influence, and the King 
was besought by his favorite to dismiss Choiseul, 
until she at last succeeded in bringing about the 
downfall of the minister. 

His successor, the Duke d'Aiguillon, who obeyed 
the Countess blindly, joined in the attacks on the 
Dauphiness, whose position became in truth a difli- 
cult one. Between the minister on one side and 
his favorite on the other, the King was forced to 
listen to continual complaints against Marie Antoi- 
nette, which annoyed him and changed the favor he 
had at first shown her to coldness. 

Louis the Fifteenth was fond of his children and 
grandchildren, but his was purely a selfish afl^ection. 
As long as they did not interfere with his pleasures 

[57] 



® MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

he allowed them all possible freedom ; but he had 
a horror of domestic scenes. At length, wearied by 
the Countess's insinuations, he sent for the Dauphin- 
ess's lady-in-waiting instead of herself. After prais- 
ing her character and her attractions he complained 
of her outspoken criticisms of persons and matters 
at his court. This was duly reported to Marie 
Antoinette, who hastened directly to the King. 
Louis's displeasure was not proof against her youth- 
ful charms ; he embraced her kindly, kissed her 
hand, and promised not to heed the complaints of 
her enemies. Thus for a time their plots were 
frustrated. Could she but have gone to the King 
at every such attempt it would have been a powerful 
weapon in her hand, but she was completely ruled 
by the old princesses, who did their best to keep 
her away from their father ; and this apparent 
reserve only annoyed Louis. 

One day — it was the twenty-first of July, 1771 
— the Austrian ambassador was summoned to the 
Countess du Barry's apartments, where the King 
desired to see him. Surprised at a request which 
seemed to him only a pretext for inveigling him into 
a visit to the favorite, he nevertheless obeyed. He 
was received with a great air of friendship by the 
Countess, who confided to him that she was greatly 
distressed by the calumnies that were made use of to 
prejudice the Dauphiness against her. " Not a day 
[58] 



t THE COUNTESS DU BARRY t 

passes," she declared, " without some proof of her 
contempt." 

The ambassador was about to protest his ignorance 
of the matter, when the door opened and the King 
entered the room. " Hitherto,'* he said, " you have 
been the ambassador of the Empress of Austria. 
Now I beg you to act for the time being as mine." 

Therewith he began to complain of the Dauphin- 
ess's conduct. He found her altogether charming; 
but young and lively as she was and married to a 
husband unable to control her, it was impossible for 
her to avoid pitfalls. She was too ready to yield to 
her prejudices and dislikes, which she carried so far 
as even to treat members of his own circle with dis- 
respect, thus inflaming party spirit and disturbing 
matters at court. " Visit the Dauphiness frequently," 
he continued. " I empower you to say what you 
will from me to her. She has been influenced by 
bad advice, and she should not yield to it." 

Count Mercy was too faithfully attached to Marie 
Antoinette, and saw too clearly through the network 
of intrigue that was being woven about her, to delay 
conveying to her the wishes of the King. He ad- 
vised her to take a decided position one way or the 
other. If she wished to appear aware of the part 
the Countess played at court, then her dignity re- 
quired her to beg the King to forbid this woman 
entrance to her apartments. If on the other hand 

[59] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

she meant to pretend not to understand the favorite's 
position, she must treat her as she would any other 
lady about the court and address a few words to her 
when occasion demanded. 

This advice caused great commotion in the 
Dauphiness's circle. Marie Antoinette, who in 
spite of her mother's protests, was still guided by 
Adelaide's advice, was bitterly opposed to speaking 
to the Countess. " My aunts do not wish me to," 
she declared. The arguments of Count Mercy, 
added to those of her husband, however, finally 
induced her to yield, and it was arranged that at one 
of the evening receptions at court, while the ambas- 
sador engaged the Countess in conversation, the 
Dauphiness should approach and speak a few words 
to her. 

The evening came, and all at first went well. 
Mercy approached the favorite, and Marie An- 
toinette began her tour of the salon. She was ap- 
proaching the spot where Madame du Barry stood, 
when suddenly Aunt Adelaide, who had not lost 
sight of her for an instant, called out, " Come, 
child! It is time we were going." At the sound 
of that harsh voice the Dauphiness lost her com- 
posure, became embarrassed, and hastened away 
after the Princess. Thus nothing came of the pro- 
jected interview. Louis was displeased, and his 

favorite offended. 
[60] 



t THE COUNTESS DU BARRY t 

" Your efforts are of no avail," said the King to 
the ambassador; "I shall be forced to come to 
your aid." 

Count Mercy was uneasy ; he feared the sover- 
eign's anger would urge him to fatal steps. To 
prevent this he wrote urgently to Maria Theresa, 
beseeching her to take the matter into her own 
hands. 

The Empress at this time was in the midst of 
negotiations with Prussia and Russia as to the Par- 
tition of Poland, a matter which her nobility of 
nature made it difficult for her to bring herself to 
countenance, and which, as she herself expressed it, 
"was a blot upon her reign." Urged on by Count 
Kaunitz and her son Joseph she wished personally 
to delay the affair, and a renewal of the alliance 
between France and Austria seemed to her the only 
way in which this could be accomplished. It was 
most important to her, therefore, that Marie An- 
toinette should not antagonize the party then in 
power. Although she had never before mentioned 
the Countess du Barry to her daughter, she suddenly 
began to overwhelm the Dauphiness with reproaches 
and expressed sentiments quite foreign to her char- 
acter. She wrote : 

'' Confess that it is only embarrassment which makes 
you afraid to say a simple ' Good evening ' ; a few words 
about a gown or this or that trifle costs you so many 

[6.] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

grimaces ! You have allowed yourself to become so over- 
ruled that neither reason nor duty has any weight with you. 
I can no longer remain silent. After all that has been 
said to you respecting the King's wishes you presume to 
disobey them ! What excuse can you possibly offer ! It is 
not for you to make distinctions between Madame du Barry 
and any other lady who is admitted to the King's society. 
As his foremost subject you owe him obedience, and should 
set an example to the court. Neither I nor any one would 
demand anything of you that was low or unworthy, but a 
simple word — some slight consideration, not for the woman 
but for your grandfather, your sovereign, your benefactor. 
You seem afraid to talk to the King, but you do not fear 
to disobey and anger him." 

Marie Antoinette replied to her mother : 

" If Your Majesty were only here you would understand 
that the lady in question and her followers are by no means 
to be satisfied with a few occasional words; they must be 
continually repeated. I do not say I will never speak to 
her ; but I will not be forced to talk to her at an appointed 
time and place, thus giving her and her friends an opportu- 
nity to triumph over me." 

Madame du Barry did not lack audacity. At the 

wedding of the Count d^Artois she dined openly 

with the royal family, and at the King's soirees she 

even went so far as to sit beside the Dauphin. 

She overwhelmed the Dauphiness with attentions. 

" If the Empress could see her she would forgive 
[62] 



* THE COUNTESS DU BARRY t 

me/' declared Marie Antoinette on one occasion ; 
" it is too much to be borne ! '* 

Instead of indulging her daughter in this matter, 
Maria Theresa continued her imperious letters, 
till at last, to please her mother, Marie Antoinette 
consented to let fall a remark that might seem 
addressed to the Countess. The ambassador was 
highly pleased at this, but his satisfaction was of 
short duration. 

" I have spoken to her once,'* said Marie An- 
toinette, " but am firmly resolved that creature 
shall never hear the sound of my voice again." 

It seemed an incredible sacrifice to her that she 
should be required to take any notice of a person 
she so thoroughly despised. In vain her mother 
and Count Mercy urged her to relinquish her 
hostility ; in vain the Duke d'Aiguillon tried to in- 
duce her to treat the Countess with less contempt; 
even Princess Adelaide, who had gone over to 
that party, was unable to alter her niece's senti- 
ments in this respect. To her arguments Marie 
Antoinette only replied : " Aunt, I advise you to 
keep out of Aiguillon's intrigues ; he is a bad 
man." 



[63] 



Chapter VI 
The State E7itry into Paris 




AZZLED by the loveliness of the young 
Princess who had just come into the 
country, and at a loss where to bestow 
their traditional loyalty to the royal 
family, the people, still believing in her goodness 
and virtue, yielded completely to her fascination. 
She was the star on which all eyes were fixed. It 
was customary for the Dauphin and Dauphiness to 
make a state entry into the capital on an appointed 
day, but owing to intrigues this event had been 
put off from time to time. When, however, Louis 
and Marie Antoinette did at last make their appear- 
ance, in the Summer of 1773, the enthusiasm was in- 
describable. Along the route of the royal progress 
the crowds were so dense the state coach could 
hardly make its way through them. The streets 
decorated with flowers and triumphal arches gave 
the city a festive appearance. The air was rent with 
frantic shouts of applause ; people flung themselves 
before the coach, fought for a chance to touch Marie 
Antoinette and kiss her hands, showered her with 
[64] 



t THE STATE ENTRY INTO PARIS 



blessings, and were never weary of gazing at her or 
listening to the sound of her voice. For each one 
she had a special greeting, a smile, a beaming glance 
from her lovely eyes. The " dames de la halle," 
who had come out to offer good wishes to the 
young couple, were invited to breakfast in the con- 
cert-hall of the Tuileries, and the palace and gar- 
dens were thronged with people. 

When the Dauphiness stepped out on the balcony 
she was a little terrified at the vast multitude that 
surged below her. " Madame," said the Mayor of 
Paris, " I hope it will not displease your husband, 
but down there are two hundred thousand people 
in love with Your Royal Highness." 

The Dauphin was not jealous. The enthusiasm 
of the populace and his wife's charm had had their 
influence on him. He forgot his shyness and 
replied with ease and dignity to the addresses that 
were made to him. Tears of joy started to Marie 
Antoinette's eyes. She took her husband's arm 
and together they walked about among the people, 
who pelted them with flowers and shouted till they 
were hoarse. 

" Oh, the dear, good people ! " the Dauphiness 
cried again and again. 

Louis the Fifteenth, who had long since lost the 
respect and affection of his subjects, waited impa- 
tiently at Versailles for his grandchildren's return. 
5 [65] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

" i was uneasy about you, my children," he said ; 
" you must be tired." 

" It is the happiest day of my life," replied Marie 
Antoinette. Then out of consideration for the old 
King, she added, " The Parisians must love Your 
Majesty very much, they welcomed us so kindly." 

After this triumphal entry into Paris the position 
of the Dauphiness improved greatly, and the rela- 
tions between the young couple also became more 
intimate. Louis began to be attracted by his wife's 
beauty and vivacity, and she to value him for his 
worthy qualities. Yet never was there a greater 
irony of fate than that which united these two per- 
sons ; never were two characters more directly op- 
posite. It was like combining fire and water. 
Marie Antoinette was warm-hearted, full of life and 
animation ; Louis was cold and inert and as reserved 
as she was outspoken. She was slender and grace- 
ful of form ; he awkward and clumsy. Even his 
kindness did not greatly appeal to Marie Antoi- 
nette, for it was of a rough, uncouth sort, without any 
of the sentiment or delicacy she loved. In this 
dull prince who took no pleasure in anything but 
his workshop, where he would shut himself up for 
hours together with his favorite companion, a black- 
smith named Gamain, she looked in vain for the 
husband of whom she had dreamed — the future 

King of France. The Dauphin's indifference to 
[66] 



t THE STATE ENTRY INTO PARIS t 

his personal appearance also caused a feeling of 
disgust in his young wife ; on one occasion she re- 
proached him bitterly for being so careless in his 
dress. Louis was at first offended, then began to 
weep, and they made their peace. 

" Do you love me ? '* he asked her one day. 

" Yes," she replied, " I do truly love you ; that 
you must never doubt. But I respect you even 
more." Her naive frankness amused the Dauphin, 
and from that time he began to be more careful. 

The Dauphiness's position at court also became 
more agreeable. After a few violent outbursts the 
old princesses apparently ceased their persecutions, 
and other members of the royal family took pains 
to please the future Queen. Even the Countess du 
Barry ceased her intrigues and complaints, for she 
realized, and others did not fail to remind her, that 
the King was old, and it was to her interest to be 
on good terms with the Dauphin and Dauphiness. 

In April, 1774, the King was seized with the 
smallpox. Informed by the physicians that it was 
time to consider a future life, his conscience awoke, 
and the Countess du Barry was ordered to leave the 
royal palace. The news of his condition was received 
in Paris with an indifference bordering on joy, while 
the courtiers knew not whether to adhere to the sink- 
ing sun or attach themselves to the one that was ris- 
ing. When it was learned that death was imminent 

[67] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

they vanished from Versailles like leaves before a 
storm, while the populace, on the contrary, flocked 
to the palace to verify the reports. 

Louis had a great fear of death, and suffered hor- 
ribly. At one time he would cover his face and 
thrust away the extended cross, shrieking that he 
was unworthy of Christ's mercy ; at another, casting 
piteous glances to heaven, he would clasp it to his 
heart, covering it with tears and kisses. 

The infection was so terrible that even the phy- 
sicians were reluctant to enter the sick chamber. 
Many caught the disease merely by passing through 
the gallery without, and one courtier succumbed 
from opening the door for a moment to glance at 
the King. It was almost impossible to induce any 
servants to attend the dying man. 

By the King's desire the Dauphin and Dauphiness 
left the palace, and his daughters and a few faithful 
attendants were the only ones present at his death- 
bed. Forsaken by all his friends and courtiers, 
Princesses Adelaide and Louise never left his side. 
In spite of the certainty of being infected by the dis- 
ease, they performed all the repulsive duties of the 
sick-room, sustained the dying monarch with their 
prayers, and remained at their post till the end, re- 
sisting the entreaties of the physicians and even of 
their father himself. 

On the tenth of May, 1774, he breathed his last. 
[68] 



t THE STATE ENTRY INTO PARIS t 

• ■ ■ - 

A lighted candle which had been placed in a win- 
dow of the palace to show that the King still lived 
was extinguished, and those waiting without knew 
that Louis the Fifteenth was dead. 

The only officials remaining in the palace were 
the master of ceremonies and those courtiers whose 
duties required them to see that the earthly remains 
of their sovereign were consigned to the grave. The 
body was hastily rolled in a sheet and thrown into 
a triple coffin of oak, which was placed on a wagon 
and conveyed in the dead of night to the royal 
vaults at St. Denis, greeted with jeers and drinking 
songs by some belated revellers from the public- 
house. 

" Louis the Fifteenth,** said a scoffer, " paid with 
paper money when he was born ; brought us war in 
his prime, famine when he was old, and the pest 
when he died." 



[69] 



Chapter VII 
Court Etiquette 



M*: 



O King of France was ever less aspiring 
an the well-meaning youth with smoke- 
^ , grimed hands who ascended the throne 
^ \J on the death of Louis the Fifteenth, and 
who looked upon his sovereignty as a burden to 
be borne with Christian resignation. 

After the old King had breathed his last, the 
royal family were gathered in the chapel praying 
for the soul of the deceased, when a terrible storm 
arose. The rain beat against the windows, gusts 
of wind extinguished the wax tapers, and the 
thunder drowned the voices of the priests. The 
Countess de Noailles and Abbe Vermond had been 
the first to greet the Dauphin and Dauphiness as 
King and Queen of France. The young couple 
burst into tears. " God help us ! " they cried, fall- 
ing on their knees, "we are too young to reign ! *' 

It was a cry from the heart and not without 

reason, for Louis, who was barely twenty years old, 

had been carefully excluded from any share in the 

government, while Marie Antoinette, then in her 

[70] 



COURT ETIQUETTE 



nineteenth year, had neither desire nor capacity for 
affairs of state. The court was torn by rival fac- 
tions, the finances were in disorder, and respect for 
the King's authority was weakened. 

After the death of Louis the young couple took 
up their residence temporarily at La Muette, a 
small chateau near Boulogne, the gates of which 
were besieged from earliest dawn to sundown by en- 
thusiastic throngs shouting, " Long live the King ! " 
Much was hoped for from the new sovereign, who 
was known to be earnest, well informed, and, despite 
his awkward manner, truly kind and benevolent ; 
nor was less expected of the beautiful and gracious 
young Queen. The intrigues that had followed 
Louis the Fifteenth even to his death-bed were 
already busy about the foot of his grandson's throne ; 
even before the old King's body was borne away 
the struggle for honors and position had begun. 

The most urgent demand of the people was 
promptly complied with — the Countess du Barry 
was banished from court ; her brother, the ring- 
leader in all her schemes, was forced to flee to Eng- 
land. But this was not enough to satisfy the 
impetuosity of the French ; they insisted on having 
all who had been in power expelled from the palace 
within twenty-four hours. " I must confess the en- 
thusiasm of the French causes me some uneasi- 
ness," Marie Antoinette wrote to her mother during 

[71] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

these first days of sovereignty. " It is impossible 
to satisfy every one in a country where the people 
are so impatient." 

Maria Theresa shared her doubts. " I fear their 
happy days are over/* she said to her Minister 
when she informed him of her daughter's accession 
to the throne. To the King and Queen she wrote : 
" You are both too young, my dear children, and 
your burden is a heavy one. I am anxious for you 
— oh, so anxious!" 

The Empress had permitted her daughter to 
marry the Dauphin of France, hoping to promote 
her own plans ; but she could scarcely have chosen 
an instrument less fit for her purpose. Of all her 
daughters Marie Antoinette was least interested in 
political affairs. 

Princess Adelaide had taken the disease at her 
father's sick-bed, but she did not permit her ill- 
ness to interfere with her schemes. At the outset 
of her nephew's reign she made it plain that she 
controlled the youthful sovereign and intended to 
have a voice in his choice of a Minister. She 
showed him the testament his father had left for 
his guidance in matters of policy, and while Marie 
Antoinette was taking her walks held secret meet- 
ings to discuss the list of names the former Dauphin 
had approved as counsellors to his successor. 

By Adelaide's desire the Marquis de Maurepas 
[72] 



COURT ETIQUETTE 



was made leader of the Privy Council, a choice little 
to the liking of Marie Antoinette. The latter was 
partly to blame for this, having permitted the aunts 
to live under the same roof with her and the King, 
although it had previously been agreed that they 
should be separated for a time. She had not the 
strength of mind to oppose Adelaide, and her one 
thought seems to have been to get rid of D'Ai- 
guillon, whom she detested and called " that hateful 
man." 

Her personal choice would have been Choiseul, 
who was devoted to her and had arranged her 
marriage, but she could not remove the King's 
prejudice against him. All she could obtain was 
permission for him to visit her at court. The 
young Queen greeted him most cordially. " I am 
charmed to see you again. Monsieur Choiseul," she 
said, " and would have been very glad could I have 
brought about your return to us. It is to you I 
owe my good fortune, and it is only right that you 
should be witness of it." 

But Louis was not so amiable. He had not for- 
gotten the false and evil tales with which his child- 
hood had been poisoned. " How stout you have 
grown. Monsieur Choiseul ! " he said ; " and you 
are getting bald ! " That was the only remark he 
addressed to the former Prime Minister. The 
Duke himself had had no illusions in regard to 

[73] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

this visit ; before the audience took place he had 
ordered his horse saddled, ready to return home. 

The King's household consisted of fourteen hun- 
dred officials, while the Queen had four hundred 
and fifty, all of whom bore high-sounding, absurd 
titles. The life of Louis and Marie Antoinette was 
almost that of prisoners, the discipline that governed 
the palace being like that of a barracks. This rigid 
supervision, a relic of olden days, annoyed Marie 
Antoinette more than anything else during the 
early part of her reign. Etiquette pursued her 
everywhere, at every hour of the day ; it hampered 
her freedom, destroyed her pleasure, interfered with 
her friendships. Sick or well, in public or in private, 
she was bound down by it. Every detail of her 
life, even to the style of her dress and the shape of a 
loop of ribbon, was regulated by the strictest laws. 
One of these numerous rules compelled the Queen 
to dine with the King publicly at noon, attended 
only by her women. Another required two ladies 
in court dress to remain constantly in attendance 
on her. 

It was the duty of the lady-of-honor and the lady- 
in-waiting to dress the Queen, assisted by a woman 
of the bed-chamber and two tire-women. This 
ceremony was also regulated by strict rules : the 
lady-in-waiting drew Her Majesty's petticoat over 
[74] 



t COURT ETIQUETTE 



her head and handed her her dress ; the lady- 
of-honor poured water into a basin for her to wash 
her hands, and put on her linen. Disrobing was a 
matter of equal ceremony : at night the Queen v/as 
obHged to wear a corset trimmed with lace and 
a large white kerchief. From the time she drank 
her morning chocolate, all might enter her bed- 
chamber whether she was up or still in bed. The 
levee proper, however, did not take place till noon, 
when princes and' court officials came to pay their 
respects. In their presence the Queen made her 
toilette. 

Nothing was ever handed directly to her. What- 
ever she wanted — a handkerchief or a glass of 
water — was placed on a salver and passed through 
many hands before it finally reached her, so that 
the Queen though surrounded by attendants was 
often very badly served. An anecdote told by her 
lady of the bed-chamber in her memoirs gives an 
idea of the intolerable tyranny of court etiquette. 

One winter night Marie Antoinette was waiting 
for her night-robe to be put on. The lady of the 
bed-chamber held it in her hands ready to draw it 
over the Queen's head, when the lady-in-waiting 
'entered, removed her gloves, and took the garment. 
Just then there came a knock at the door and the 
Duchess of Orleans was admitted. She too drew off 
her gloves and approached to. receive the Queen's 

[75] 



* MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH * 

night-robe. Etiquette forbade her to take it from 
the lady-in-waiting, who handed it back to the bed- 
chamber woman, who was about to pass it on, when 
again there was a knock at the door ; this time it 
was the Countess of Provence. The Duchess of 
Orleans again gave it back to the bed-chamber 
woman, who handed it to the Queen's sister-in-law. 
All this time Marie Antoinette had stood there 
waiting, shivering and almost frozen, till the Countess 
of Provence seeing her plight drew the night-robe 
over her head without waiting to remove her gloves. 
Nor was the burden of etiquette in any way 
lightened by the Countess de Noailles, her mistress 
of ceremonies, a virtuous, pious, and most worthy 
person, but without the slightest attractions either 
of person or disposition. She had been lady- 
of-honor to Maria Leczinska, the former Queen of 
France, and according to the laws of etiquette was 
appointed to fill the same position in Marie An- 
toinette's household. She had reduced court cere- 
monial almost to a science ; the wife of Louis the 
Fifteenth had been guided entirely by her direc- 
tions. The more Maria Leczinska had thanked 
God in her inmost heart for elevating her to so lofty 
a position, the less had she cared to be reminded of 
her birth. The Polish princess therefore had laid 
great stress on all outward tokens of respect, and 
wished them strictly observed. 
[7^] 



COURT ETIQUETTE 



It was quite different with the wife of her grand- 
son. When the mistress of ceremonies wearied her 
beyond endurance with points of etiquette she v/ould 
reply hotly, *'Have it your own way, Madame! 
But do not expect a Queen who was born an arch- 
duchess of Austria to attach the same importance to 
such matters as a simple Polish princess who was 
made Queen of France." 

Much as Marie Antoinette may have despised all 
this ceremony, it was dangerous for her to do away 
with it, as she did ; for the veil of secrecy it cast 
about royalty added much to the glamour necessary 
for its maintenance at that time. ^ The Countess 
should have made this plain to the young Queen, 
and shown her the danger of suddenly introducing 
new customs into an old court ; instead of which 
she wearied her with continual reproofs : Her 
Majesty should have done this way or that ; she 
had smiled at the wrong moment or nodded when 
she should have curtsied. This perpetual interfer- 
ence had annoyed Marie Antoinette even as Dau- 
phiness ; as Queen she found it intolerable. 

One day when she was riding a donkey the ani- 
mal threw her. The terrified courtiers hastened to 
her assistance, but she waved them away and lay in 
the grass laughing. *' Send for Madame Etiquette ! '* 
she cried. " She can tell us how a Queen of France 
should behave when thrown from a donkey ! " 

[77] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

From that time the lady~of-honor was known by 
no other name at court than " Madame Etiquette." 

Both Maria Theresa and Louis the Sixteenth 
encouraged Marie Antoinette in shaking off the 
yoke of ceremony she found so irksome, and to their 
advice was added that of her tutor, the Abbe Ver- 
mond. This was a person of no small importance 
at court, owing to the influence he had quietly but 
surely obtained over the Queen. Of humble birth, 
his vanity had been aroused and flattered by -Maria 
Theresa*s having admitted him to her family circle 
at their evening parties, and he always retained the 
greatest admiration for the Empress and the unpre- 
tentious customs of the Austrian court. He was 
altogether an original character, despising outward 
marks of honor, and preferring to appear only as 
Marie Antoinette's friend and counsellor. He 
treated the loftiest personages as equals, almost 
indeed as inferiors, often receiving ministers or 
bishops seated in his bath. Vermond was both 
hated and feared at Versailles. When Louis the 
Sixteenth became King it was hoped he would be 
dismissed, for the new sovereign could not endure 
his wife's tutor, and never noticed him in any way. 
But the Abbe remained, nor was the Queen's faith 
in him ever shaken for a moment. She referred 

everything to him ; it is probable he often persuaded 
[78] 



COURT ETIQUETTE 



her into taking steps the consequences of which 
she could not foresee. He lost no opportunity of 
encouraging her in her rebellion against court eti- 
quette. If it chanced that she was dissuaded from 
taking a morning walk or urged not to appear in a 
dress that did not conform to the prescribed rule, 
he would demand scornfully : " Would you have 
the Queen perpetually encased in a suit of armor ? 
Is she never to venture out without a regiment of 
soldiers following after her, like a field-marshal 
setting out to conquer a fortress ? Let her wear 
her simple gowns and breathe the fresh air without 
all this antiquated foolery ! It has always been 
her custom, as it was that of the Empress Maria 
Theresa." 

Thus he would recall to Marie Antoinette the 
freedom and simplicity of her mother's court, mak- 
ing sport of the etiquette of the Bourbons, oblivious 
of the fact that the Queen's dignity required her 
adherence to the old customs and usages of the 
French court. 



[79] 



Chapter VIII 
The ^leens Frivolity 



OUIS and Marie Antoinette had no sooner 
ascended the throne than they began to 
encounter opposition and jealousy in their 
^^ — yf own family. The Counts and Countesses 
of Provence and of Artois refused to wait upon the 
King and Queen every morning, as had been their 
custom with the former sovereign, and Louis, who 
was kindness itself, did not require his brothers 
to address him as " Your Majesty." On public 
occasions when the royal family were together a 
stranger would have found it difficult to tell which 
was the sovereign. The Count d' Artois, in par- 
ticular, was almost offensively familiar. He jostled 
his oldest brother, trod on his feet, and contradicted 
him constantly. The Count de Provence was more 
prudent, thrusting himself less into the foreground; 
but he was less candid and soon became one of 
Marie Antoinette's secret enemies. 

As for Princess Adelaide, we have seen how bit- 
ter she was against the young Queen. Her sister 

Louise, who kept an eye on court doings from her 
[80] 



THE QUEEN'S FRIVOLITY 



convent, was little less so, while the Count de Pro- 
vence lost no opportunity of injuring his sister-in-law. 
Marie Antoinette, on her part, made it quite clear 
to the two princesses of Savoy that she fully realized 
her two-fold superiority as Archduchess of Austria 
and Queen of France. They were not slow to 
retaliate, and bitter quarrels and dissensions arose. 
Naturally imprudent and fond of admiration, the 
Queen laid herself more open to criticism than her 
adversaries, and, thanks to the ceaseless efforts of 
her aunts and sisters-in-law, a network of calumny 
soon enveloped her. 

The last year of Louis the Fifteenth's reign was 
an unhappy one for Marie Antoinette. Shut out 
from the amusements of the court by her abhorrence 
of the King's favorite, condemned to the society of 
the morose, ill-humored old princesses and Mme, 
de Noailles with her eternal sermons, her natural 
vivacity and love of pleasure were completely sup- 
pressed. Now, elevated suddenly to freedom and 
power at so early an age, her many-sided nature 
seemed to undergo a change ; qualities hitherto 
dormant sprang to life. Reaction from the bore- 
dom and restraint of court etiquette showed itself 
in an inordinate thirst for pleasure, and unfortu- 
nately there were only too many at court who 
shared her tastes. 

Marie Antoinette loved Paris, and the theatre 
6 ^ [8i] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

was one of her greatest delights. Her frequent 
visits to the capital pleased the Parisians at first, 
but when she began to attend private and masked 
balls it was looked upon as unbecoming the dignity 
of a queen. It is true these so-called opera-balls 
were frequented by good society, and the King 
willingly permitted her to attend them, though he 
never was known to accompany her save on one 
occasion. She was usually escorted by her brother- 
in-law; now in the garb of an Amazon, now in a 
shabby domino, she danced all night, and seldom 
returned to Versailles before nine o'clock the next 
morning. 

Naturally there was no lack of malicious gossip 
and slander. One evening a masker had the audacity 
to approach and accuse the Queen of neglecting 
her conjugal duty. " A good wife," he declared, 
" should stay at home with her husband and not 
run about alone to balls." 

These scandalous reports at last reached the ears 

of the King, who showered passionate reproaches 

upon his wife. It is probable that Marie Antoinette 

was not half so light-minded as she is represented. 

Many of these stories were false, others wilfully 

exaggerated ; but the abandon with which she gave 

herself up to pleasure, while not so bad in itself as 

it was made to appear, placed a powerful weapon in 

the hands of her enemies. 
[82] 



THE QUEEN'S FRIVOLITY 



Strange to say, she never seemed aware of the 
gossip to which she was giving rise, or to suspect 
that she was furnishing the canvas upon which tat- 
tlers and scandal-mongers were to p?int a false pic- 
ture of her life. She looked upon the opera-balls 
as a most innocent diversion, quite unconscious of 
the injury her visits to them did her, or that her 
freedom of manner offended public sentiment. If 
the Queen herself was unmindful of her dignity it 
was only natural that others should begin to disre- 
gard it. 

We have already seen the offence she had given as 
Dauphiness by her love of ridicule. Some days 
after the burial of their grandfather the young sover- 
eigns received a visit of condolence from some of 
the highest nobles and dignitaries in the kingdom, 
upon which occasion Marie Antoinette created a 
host of enemies by laughing at the antiquated cos- 
tumes of some of the elderly dames. Deeply of- 
fended at this violation of ail decorum, these ladies 
returned to their castles or convents full of bitter- 
ness against her, and vowing never to set foot in her 
court again. This occurrence, together with her 
openly expressed preference for young people, and 
a remark that she did not see why any one over 
thirty should wish to appear at court, gave rise to 
the vulgar ditties that were circulated against her. 

Ill at ease on her new throne and wearied by the 

[83] 



* MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

long audiences required of her, she neglected her 
duties on state occasions, forgot to notice people 
whose rank or standing entitled them to her consid- 
eration, and soon had the more serious-minded part 
of the court so set against her that she was obliged 
to form a circle of her own. Even here, however, 
she was too outspoken and imprudent. She made 
sport of those who were no longer young and hand- 
some, surrounded herself with persons whose repu- 
tations were not always of the best, and adopted as 
her adviser, not the King, whose peculiarities she 
often ridiculed, but the Count d'Artois, who fol- 
lowed her about like a shadow on all occasions. 

Her adversaries found a powerful ally in the 
Countess de Marsan, the former governess of the 
King and of his sisters, whose opinions, by virtue 
of the respect she enjoyed and the position she long 
had occupied, carried much weight. This lady mis- 
interpreted her every action, distrusted and traduced 
her on all possible occasions, while the Queen re- 
venged herself by ridicule and witticisms, forgetting 
the Countess's position and her power at court. 



[84] 



Chapter IX 
The Follies of Fashion 



TTT will be seen from the foregoing that Marie 
Antoinette lacked many of the qualities desira- 
ble in a queen ; but as far as personal attrac- 
y ^ tions were concerned she was eminently fitted 
for her position, not only as Queen of France, but 
also as queen of the realm of beauty. As Dauphi- 
ness she was charming rather than beautiful, and the 
Countess du Barry spitefully called her " the little 
red-head " at their first meeting. Yet she enchanted 
others with the sweetness of her smile, her graceful 
figure, lovely profile, and the large, expressive eyes 
that could laugh so easily and as quickly flash with 
scorn or anger. 

During the four years that elapsed between her ar- 
rival in France and the death of Louis the Fifteenth 
she developed surprisingly, until at the time of her 
accession to the throne she combined the beauty of 
the woman with the majestic bearing of the sovereign. 
Even had she belonged to the lowest ranks of so- 
ciety her loveliness would have excited universal 

[85] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

admiration ; and it is easy to understand the en- 
thusiasm excited by her as the wife of a king and 
the daughter of an empress. Whenever she entered 
a room she was greeted with a general murmur of 
admiration. At the theatre every opera-glass was 
levelled at her instantly ; in men she inspired a 
devotion bordering on infatuation. 

Mme. Vigee le Brun", who first painted her por- 
trait (1779), thus describes her appearance at that 
time : 

" She was tall and well proportioned, her hands and feet 
were small and exquisitely formed. No woman in France 
had a more imposing bearing. She carried her head high, 
with a dignity that instantly stamped her as the sovereign 
without lessening in any degree her kindness of manner. 
At my first audience with the Queen she permitted me to 
speak of my impressions and to observe how much her way 
of carrying her head enhanced the nobility of her appear- 
ance. To which she replied laughingly, ' If I were not 
Queen of France people would call me bold, would they 
not ? "* 

The Summer after the death of Louis the Fifteenth 

was spent by the young couple at the chateaux of 

Choisy, La Muette, Marly, and Compiegne, and 

not until the beginning of September did the court 

return to Versailles. The apartments that had been 

occupied by Louis the Sixteenth as Dauphin were 

given over to the Count de Provence, while the 
[86] 



t THE FOLLIES OF FASHION t 

room in which Louis the Fifteenth had breathed 
his last served as the new King's bed-chamber until 
the sixth of October, 1789. The Queen retained 
the apartments she had occupied as Dauphiness, the 
abode also of former queens of France, and which 
Imbert de Saint-Amand has described in his "Women 
of Versailles." He says : 

" Ascending the marble staircase, we come to a door on 
the first floor which leads to the Queen's salon, an apart- 
ment reserved for her bodyguard. In the adjoining room, 
called variously ' the Queen's ante-chamber ' and ' the great 
dining-hall,' the King dines publicly with his wife. For 
the Queen this is merely a form ; she takes her dinner 
later in her private apartments. The King, on the con- 
trary, eats with a prodigious appetite. 

" In this same room the state banquets are held, at which 
only princes on their wedding-day may be present. The 
sovereign Is served on magnificent plates and dishes. Ladles 
of the highest rank are in attendance but do not eat. Only 
princesses and duchesses sit at the table on chairs or tabour- 
ets. All the rest stand. 

" In the next apartment the Queen holds her public 
levees, seated on a dais under a canopy. Adjoining this 
is the Queen's bed-chamber, within whose walls fifteen 
princes and princesses of the blood first saw the light of 
day, two queens and two dauphlnesses died, and all Marie 
Antoinette's children were born. In the rear of this room 
is an almost invisible door which opens into a small pas- 
sage called the King's walk, leading to the council-chamber 

[87] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH * 

and Louis the Sixteenth's bed-chamber. It was through 
this that Marie Antoinette fled half-dressed from her would- 
be murderers on the morning of October 6, 1789. 

" Last of all comes the magnificent Hall of Peace which 
opens into the Gallery of Mirrors." 

The Queen spent little time in these state apart- 
ments, preferring four modest, poorly lighted little 
rooms which she had had fitted up expressly for her 
own use, consisting of a salon and two libraries, 
together with an anteroom that communicated with 
her bed-chamber. 

Before her accession to the throne Marie Antoi- 
nette was comparatively simple in her dress, and 
was accustomed to make her morning visits in those 
light gowns that so offended the ceremonious old 
princesses. A milliner, the famous Mile. Bertin, 
completely altered the Queen's taste in this respect, 
and was responsible for the extravagance she after- 
wards displayed. The Duchess de Chartres, sub- 
sequently Duchess of Orleans, recommended this 
v/oman to Marie Antoinette, who took a great fancy 
to her. Being a bourgeoise, and the first of her class 
that had ever been given the entree to the King's 
palace, it was several months after their first meet- 
ing before her royal patroness dared to receive her 
anywhere but in her own closet. Naturally ambi- 
tious and designing, Mile. Bertin soon acquired 
considerable influence over the Queen, with whom 
[88] 



t THE FOLLIES OF FASHION ® 

she appeared on the most intimate terms, and to 
whom she dictated on all matters of fashion. 

" Mile. Bertin is my Minister of Dress/* declared 
Marie Antoinette ; " she keeps intriguers away from 
me," — a remark which made the milliner so con- 
ceited she fancied her position quite as important as 
that of a king's councillor. 

After Mile. Bertin became her mistress of the 
wardrobe the Queen abandoned the old custom 
requiring her to make her toilette before all eyes. 
Those who presented themselves in her bed-chamber 
now merely saluted the sovereign and retired, and 
Mile. Bertin was henceforth the only one admitted 
to her private apartments to assist her to dress. 
After this she returned to the regular state boudoir, 
whither all might repair who wished to address peti- 
tions to her while the court hairdresser was arranging 
her coiiFure. 

It was Mile. Bertin who originated the remarka- 
ble fashion of dressing the hair that was in vogue at 
that period. Huge structures of gauze, flowers, and 
feathers were worn, combined Vv^ith puffs, curls, and 
braids. The strangest articles were seen on the 
heads of ladies. Coiffures often thirty or forty 
inches high were arranged to represent botanical 
gardens, allegories, landscapes, and every conceiv- 
able thing. In one would be seen a meadow with 
lambs, a stag, and a brook ; another would represent 

[89] 



t^ MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH 



the five divisions of the globe with sun, moon, 
and stars ; a third bore a parasol which opened and 
shut according to the sunshine or shade ; while a 
fourth displayed a diamond bird fluttering with out- 
spread wings over a blooming rose. Special designs 
were invented for all occasions. The Duchess de 
Chartres appeared once at a court festival wearing a 
battleship with masts and silken sails ; another even- 
ing an allegorical figure of her little son Louis Phi- 
lippe asleep on the knees of his nurse. The court 
hairdresser, Leonard, gave himself the title of 
^^ Academicien de coiffures et de modest In order 
to secure the services of this artist ladies were often 
forced to have their hair dressed early in the morn- 
ing, or even the night before an event, and sit all 
night in a chair that the imposing structure might 
not be injured. 

Mile. Bertin did not do things by halves. Every 
month, sometimes every v^eek, she made Leonard 
heighten the coiffure. One morning when Marie 
Antoinette entered her boudoir, a servant appeared 
bearing a three-legged stool. "What is that for? " 
she asked her bedchamber woman. Whereupon 
the hairdresser approached and, bowing low, in- 
formed Her Majesty that without a stool it would 
be impossible for him to put the finishing touches 
on her coiffure. 

The Queen sent her mother a portrait of herself 
[90] 



t THE FOLLIES OF FASHION t 

in a towering head-dress with feathers half a yard 
long. Maria Theresa promptly returned it with the 
following words: "My daughter! there must be 
some mistake. I have received a portrait, not of 
the Queen of France, but of some actress. I send 
it back, therefore, hoping to obtain the right one." 
Her mother's criticism made little impression on 
the youthful sovereign, who looked upon it merely 
as an expression of ill-humor, due to the failing 
health of the Empress. 

The fashionable colors were as striking and ex- 
travagant as the coiffures. One day the Queen 
appeared in a bright yellow costume. " That is 
the color of the Queen's hair," remarked the Count 
de Provence. The color was at once adopted at 
court. Locks of Marie Antoinette's hair were sent 
to the silk factories at Lyons, that the color might 
be exactly reproduced in silks and ribbons. 

Marie Antoinette flung herself heart and soul into 
all these folHes of fashion. At times she could talk 
or think of nothing but dress. The Countess de la 
Marck, who describes the court of France at that 
period, says of her : " The Queen is seen constantly 
at the opera or theatre, runs into debt, flies from 
one folly to another, decks herself out with ribbons 
and feathers, and makes sport of everything." 

Her example was most injurious to all classes; 
all the women imitated her ; the same flowers, the 

[91] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

same ribbons, the same ornaments must be worn, 
regardless of expense. Husbands and fathers com- 
plained bitterly ; many were plunged into debt. 
Strife and dissension broke out in families that had 
hitherto lived in perfect accord. Husbands and 
wives were separated, and all the blame was heaped 
upon Marie Antoinette, who was accused of having 
ruined her sex by her bad example. 



[9^] 



Chapter X 
The Queen's Fickleness 



AL through her life Marie Antoinette had 
a weakness for forming friendships with 
beautiful women. But easily as she was 
captivated by beauty or wit, the attraction 
was never of long duration, for, continually craving 
new emotions, her volatile affections flitted from one 
to another. Up to the time of her intimacy with 
the Countess de Polignac she was regarded, and not 
without reason, as incapable of true friendship. 
Whenever a new star appeared on her horizon she 
would cast aside, without the least effort, one whom 
but the day before she had overwhelmed with 
attention and marks of favor. 

As Dauphiness, Marie Antoinette had been at- 
tracted for a short time by the Duchess de Pic- 
quigny, the youngest lady at court, whose fondness 
for mimicking the peculiarities of older people en- 
couraged in the Dauphiness that love of ridicule 
which afterwards made for her so many enemies. 
She soon tired of this fancy, however, and trans- 
ferred her affections to Mme. de Saint-Megrin, who 

[93] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

was succeeded by the lady-in-waiting Mme. de 
Cosse and the Marquise de Langeac. 

A year before the death of Louis the Fifteenth a 
young actress, Mile. Raucour, had taken all France 
by storm, and Marie Antoinette became deeply 
interested in her, both for her charms and for her 
remarkable talent. She invited her to Versailles, 
paid her debts, and loaded her with favors. The 
tears and reproaches of the former favorite, Mme. 
de Langeac, who found herself thus superseded, 
only served to hasten her downfall, while all dis- 
tinctions of rank between the Dauphiness and the 
priestess of Thalia seemed lost sight of. 

It was at one of the Countess de Noaille's recep- 
tions that the Princess de Lamballe was presented to 
the future Queen, who no sooner beheld this lovely 
creature than all her former friendships were for- 
gotten. Marie Therese Louise de Savoy-Carignan, 
daughter of Prince Louis Victor of Carignan 
and Princess Christine Henriette of Hesse-Rhein- 
feldt-Rothenburg, was born in Turin, September 8, 
1749. She came to France at the age of seven- 
teen to marry the Prince de Lamballe, only son 
of the Duke de Penthievre, a man universally 
respected for his benevolence and nobility of char- 
acter. The marriage proved a short and unhappy 
one. Misled by his brother-in-law, the Duke 
de Chartres, the Prince plunged into a life of excess 
[94] 



* THE QUEEN'S FICKLENESS * 

and died a year after the wedding. His widow 
became one of the most attractive figures at the 
French court. " Spring in Ermine," and " Roses 
underneath the Snow," were some of the descrip- 
tions applied to her. No shadow ever rested 
on the reputation of the Princess de Lamballe. 
Upon the death of her husband she retired for a 
time to a convent, but afterwards made her home 
with her father-in-law, who loved her as his own 
child. 

Her beauty excited universal admiration when she 
first appeared at Versailles, and Louis the Fifteenth 
was so charmed with her that the Countess du 
Barry and her friends began to fear that the Princess 
de Lamballe might become Queen of France and 
put an end to the favorite's reign. She showed no 
desire to please the old King, however. The trials 
of her youth had saddened her, and she cared little for 
the gaieties of court life. Her misfortunes only 
made her the more interesting in the eyes of the 
Dauphiness. Everything conspired to draw them 
together — youth, beauty, pride of birth ; and Marie 
Antoinette's accession to the throne only seemed 
to strengthen the bond between them. Friendship 
with the Princess was no light affair. All the pas- 
sionate tenderness her husband had scorned, and 
which had since lain dormant beneath her cold 
exterior, she lavished upon the young Austrian. 

[95] 



* MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

Even their differences of disposition proved a source 
of attraction ; for the Queen^s high spirits enlivened 
the Princess's sadness, while her placidity served as 
a check on the other's levity. When she came to 
the throne Marie Antoinette was anxious to install 
her favorite permanently at court, but as the Prin- 
cess's rank debarred her from accepting a posi- 
tion as lady-of-honor, the only one suitable was 
that of Lady Superintendent. This had been held 
under the former Queen by the Princess de Cler- 
mont, daughter of the Duke de Bourbon ; but after 
the death of Maria Leczinska the office was 
abolished. Marie Antoinette's attempt to revive it 
on behalf of a foreign princess aroused great indig- 
nation. Even the King, by the advice of his min- 
ister Turgot, strongly opposed it. By her ceaseless 
entreaties, however, the Queen induced him to yield, 
and the appointment was made in September, 1775. 

The appearance of the Princess de Lamballe in 
that position roused a storm of protest. Many of the 
court ladies refused to remain under the new super- 
intendent, and the Countess de Noailles, who had 
neither forgotten nor forgiven the Queen's nick- 
name for her, — " Madame Etiquette," — asked to 
be relieved of her duties, and departed from Ver- 
sailles full of bitterness against her royal mistress, 
which soon grew into hatred. 

The Princess de Lamballe was most high-minded 
[96] 



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RINCESS DE LAMBALLE 



THE QUEEN'S FICKLENESS 



and honorable, but somewhat narrow ; deeply as one 
must respect the loyalty that led her to martyrdom, 
it cannot be denied that she had her failings. She 
induced the Queen to place her brother, the Prince of 
Carignan, at the head of a regiment of infantry, with 
an income of thirty thousand francs, while she herself 
drew an annual salary of one hundred and fifty thou- 
sand francs. By these and other exactions she caused 
much ill feeling, though she seldom used her influ- 
ence for her own advantage. The greater part of her 
income was given to the poor, for misery never ap- 
pealed to her in vain. Marie Antoinette used to say, 
" How fortunate the poor are to have you to befriend 
them 1 It is impossible for me to refuse you any- 
thing. Sometimes I think it is only for their sake 
that you remain with me ! " 

The conscientious Princess performed her duties 
at court with the greatest zeal, and the more opposi- 
tion she met with the more firmly she clung to her 
privileges. Her royal friend, who hated all ques- 
tions of ceremony, had left her rights and duties 
wholly undefined, which gave rise to perpetual disa- 
greements between the superintendent and the ladies 
of the court. Every day fresh dissensions occurred ; 
general discontent and confusion prevailed. The 
Queen was forced to listen to continual complaints 
and settle disputes ; this annoyed her, and she 
blamed her friend. Gradually her affection cooled, 
7 [97] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

and without entirely dropping the Princess she 
turned to the quest of new friendships. 

Of these only one is deserving of mention, namely, 
the Princess de Guemene, niece of the Countess de 
Marsan. This lady and her husband led an ex- 
ceedingly gay and frivolous life, and the Queen was 
fond of spending her evenings with them. Their 
circle consisted solely of young people, who often 
behaved with such impropriety as to give general 
offence. Play ran high, and the general tone of 
these gatherings was so questionable that on one 
occasion some of the ladies present were forced to 
leave. The Queen remained, however, and was a 
constant visitor at Mme. de Guemene*s, where she 
found herself highly entertained. It was more a 
thirst for pleasure than fondness for her hostess that 
attracted her, since at this time her whole affections 
had become centred upon the Countess de Polignac, 
an intimacy as injurious to the Queen as it was ad- 
vantageous to the Countess and her family. 

Among the changes in the Queen's household 

incident to the Princess de Lamballe's instalment at 

court and the retirement of Mme. de Noailles, was 

the appointment of Countess Diane de Polignac 

as court reader. Marie Antoinette was reserved 

at first with this lady, whom she rightly regarded 

as self-seeking and coquettish. Nevertheless, Diane 

succeeded in obtaining admittance to the Queen's 
[98] 



t THE QUEEN'S FICKLENESS t 

little evening receptions, and it was she who pre- 
sented her sister-in-law to the sovereign. 

Gabrielle Yolande Claudine Martine Polastron was 
born in 1749 and married in 1767 to Count Jules de 
Polignac, an impoverished nobleman from Auvergne. 
Until the time of her appearance at Versailles she 
had led a quiet, retired life in the country, with little 
thought of ever becoming a parasite in the palace 
of a king. Marie Antoinette at once singled out " 
the Countess de Polignac for most distinguished 
marks of favor, and on learning that it was lack of 
means that had kept her so long from appearing at 
court, proceeded without delay to provide her and 
her husband with a residence at Versailles and a 
suitable income. To the Queen her poverty was 
but an added attraction — a burden of fate which it 
was her duty to relieve. In less than a year all 
was changed. The Countess and her husband were 
loaded with favors of every sort; such enormous 
sums were expended on them that the people began 
at last to murmur at the endless demands of the 
Polignac family. 

The Countess, while by no means learned or 
clever, was a woman of the world ; she possessed, 
behind a pleasing, tactful manner and a calmness 
that never deserted her even in the most difficult 
situations, far more ambition and audacity than one 
would have given her credit for. Naturally quiet, 

• > > [99l 



® MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

not to say indolent, and accustomed to the peace 
and freedom of a country life among her friends, 
Marie Antoinette's extravagant and unbounded af- 
fection often wearied her ; perhaps she would have 
relinquished sooner the position forced upon her of 
Queen's favorite, had it not proved so lucrative to 
herself and to the circle which quickly gathered 
about her, eager to reap advantage from her influ- 
ence over the Queen. 

This new intimacy at first made no change in 
Marie Antoinette's relations with the Princess de 
Lamballe. Possibly the latter hoped that this sud- 
den attachment would be as short-lived as so many 
former friendships of the Queen's had proved. But 
among the old and noble families it roused endless 
jealousies; and when Mme. de Lamballe discovered 
that the Queen's enemies were using this intimacy 
as a weapon against her, she considered it her duty 
to warn her of the danger to which she was exposing 
herself. 

This was enough to make the Countess de Poli- 
gnac her avowed enemy. Against such a rival, 
aided by all the charm of novelty as well as the 
influence of her family and friends, the Princess 
could do little at a court where, in spite of her 
high birth, she was looked upon as stupid and 
insignificant. 

Marie Antoinette at first endeavored to make 

[lOO] 



THE QUEEN'S FICKLENESS 



^s? 



peace between her two friends ; but, gradually weary- 
ing of Mme. de Lamballe, she began unconsciously 
to shun her society. The Polignacs were not slow 
to avail themselves of this, and it was not long 
before the former favorite was entirely neglected. 
Early trained to adversity, the Princess was too 
proud to show what she suffered ; nor could she at 
once withdraw from the duties imposed upon her 
by her high position. She appeared at court more 
and more rarely, and at length retired completely, 
returning to the home of her father-in-law, whose 
simple life she shared till danger called her once 
more to the side of her sovereign. Unappreciated 
in days of prosperity, she alone remained true to 
Marie Antoinette when all others had deserted her. 
She loved more than she was beloved, and gave far 
more than she received. 



[lOl] 



Chapter XI 
Trianon 



Dauphiness, Marie Antoinette had often 

^\\ expressed a desire for a country residence; 

'^^—^ ^ she loved the quiet life, the solitude of the 
woods, and the songs of birds. One 
day, therefore, soon after their accession to the 
throne, Louis said to his wife : " Now that I am 
free to indulge your fancies, I beg you to accept 
Trianon as your own and do with it as you choose. 
It has always been the abode of the King's favorite; 
therefore it must be yours." 

Marie Antoinette was overjoyed at this and re- 
plied gaily, " I accept the gift on one condition — 
that the King is never to appear there except when 
he is invited." 

Little Trianon is a two-storied structure, about 
which in those days were clustered eight cottages 
with thatched roofs, besides a windmill and a school- 
house which stood near by. In this secluded spot 
etiquette was disregarded. Every morning Marie 
Antoinette would leave Versailles on foot and hasten 
thither to roam through the gardens, gather flowers, 

[I02] 



TRIANON 



or knit and sew under the trees. Here she led a life as 
free and unrestrained as that in her ancestral home 
had been. She churned and made preserves, milked 
her pet cow, fed the doves and chickens, or worked 
among her flowers. The evenings were spent in 
the salon, the doors and windows of which opened 
into the garden. When there were guests the 
Queen served tea with her own hands. People 
came and went without ceremony, sat or walked 
about, gossiped, and did as they pleased. 

The piano always stood open where any one might 
seat himself at it. The Countess de Polignac played 
the harp ; Marie Antoinette sang little songs which 
she herself had composed. The verses were in no 
way remarkable and her voice was weak ; but her 
French audiences were not so frank as Gustavus the 
Third of Sweden, who once said to her : " For a 
Queen, you do not sing so badly ! " 

On Sundays all respectably dressed persons were 
allowed to enter the gardens of Trianon. They 
might even dance upon the grass or under a tent, 
where the Queen often mingled with them and 
sometimes danced herself to encourage them. Her 
enemies called this place " the Queen's little Vienna," 
which offended her as deeply as did her nickname 
" the Austrian woman." 

The King often walked to Trianon quite unat- 
tended, and Princess Elizabeth also spent much 



MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH 



time there, but the most frequent guests were the 
Countess de Polignac and her associates. Every 
one came in street costume ; all sat together at table, 
walked, played, or lay on the grass. No one rose 
at the Queen's approach. The people played blind- 
man's buft and other games in the gardens, jumped 
over flower-beds and hedges, raced through the 
rooms till the furniture shook and porcelain vases 
or statuettes were thrown down and shattered. Once 
when the Princess de Lamballe was complaining be- 
cause she had not been invited to Trianon on the 
preceding evening, the Queen replied, " You did not 
lose much ; ther^ was scarcely anything broken ! '* 

The enmity that pursued Marie Antoinette from 
her first appearance in France found fresh food in 
this new toy of hers. One of the principal accusa- 
tions made against her at her trial was the enormous 
sums she was said to have expended on her favorite 
residence ; and at the outbreak of the Revolution 
there was a strong prejudice against her in all parts 
of France on account of her extravagance and sup- 
posed immoral life. 

People flocked to see little Trianon, but no one 
believed in its apparent simplicity. Tales had been 
told of rooms with diamond-studded walls, and 
when none of the expected magnificence was dis- 
covered, it was supposed the most gorgeous apart- 
ments had not been shown. As a matter of fact the 
[104] 



TRIANON 



place was by no means so elegant or costly as the 
Queen's enemies represented it. There are proofs 
to show that the whole outlay on the house and gar- 
dens in the course of twelve years did not exceed 
two million francs; which was little, compared to 
the expenses of the court and the incredible sums 
that were squandered in other ways. 

Nevertheless Trianon had its dangers. The life 
that seemed so innocent and peaceful was in reality 
a hotbed of intrigue. It was far easier to obtain 
favors from the Queen here, where she found it dif- 
ficult to deny her friends, than in the ceremonious 
atmosphere of Versailles ; and here people dared to 
drop their masks and openly display their cupidity. 
One of the men who played duets with the Queen 
aspired to be minister ; another who charmed her 
with his wit coveted the post of ambassador. The 
Countess de Polignac proved a useful tool in the 
hands of these schemers. Urged on by them she 
thrust herself into everything, from the management 
of the Queen's household to the choice of ministers. 
Her sister-in-law Diane lived so entirely for her 
friends that she quite forgot her duties to Princess 
Elizabeth, who, left to her own devices, fled one day 
to a convent, and the King himself was forced to 
bring her back. 

Whenever there were visitors at court, a visit to 
Trianon always formed part of the entertainment 

[105] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

provided for them. Among these foreign princes 
was Gustavus the Third of Sweden, who afterwards 
espoused the cause of the unfortunate royal pair 
with so much warmth and gallantry. He often 
made long stays in Paris under the name of Count 
de Haga and was in the habit of going at times to 
Versailles unannounced, greatly to the embarrass- 
ment of the court. On one of the occasions when 
he suddenly appeared, Louis had gone hunting, and 
was sent for in great haste. Not expecting their 
master's return so soon, the attendants were not to 
be seen when the King entered his chamber, and 
he was forced to dress himself as best he could. He 
hung his orders on his breast upside down and ex- 
changed his hunting-boots for house shoes ; but un- 
able to find the proper mates, he put one with silver 
buckles and red heels on the right foot and one with 
gold buckles and black heels on the left. The 
Queen was none too well pleased with her husband's 
appearance, and inquired tartly whether he was 
dressed for a masquerade or whether he intended 
to offer the King of Sweden an example of French 
taste. On another occasion King Gustavus sur- 
prised the Queen by appearing unexpectedly at 
Trianon for dinner. She hastily despatched her 
waiting woman to the kitchen to find out whether a 
suitable menu could be prepared for the royal guest ; 

but Gustavus laughed, saying, " Do not trouble 
[io6] 



t TRIANON 



yourself; if there is enough for two, surely there is 
enough for three." His plain, straightforward ways 
did not appeal to Marie Antoinette ; nor does Gus- 
tavus, on his part, seem to have felt any special ad- 
miration for her. He openly criticised her singing 
and playing, and did not attempt to conceal the 
fact that he found her musical entertainments te- 
dious. One evening when the Queen had refused 
to dance, saying she was too old, he asked her jest- 
ingly if she had not been fond of dancing when she 
was young — a question scarcely pleasing to the sov- 
ereign — at that time barely twenty-eight years of 
age. 



[107] 



Chapter XII 
Gambling a7id Theatricals 



AD the customs in France been like those 
to which she had been accustomed at 
home, Marie Antoinette would have been 
J k ^Lis much happier. Her tastes being domes- 
tic, she would then no doubt have found her pleas- 
ures in her own family circle. But thrown as she 
was into the midst of a corrupt court, almost a 
stranger to her own husband, with' no serious inter- 
ests and with a passionate love of pleasure, she was 
forced to seek diversion from without. As Dau- 
phiness, she showed no disposition toward extrava- 
gance ; up to the time of her accession to the throne 
she could boast of never having made a debt. 
Dazzled by her new greatness and urged on by her 
friends, she flung herself, as we have seen, into a 
perfect vortex of pleasures that swallowed up enor- 
mous sums. She also developed a passion for 
jewels. For example, she bought a pair of diamond 
earrings which cost four hundred thousand francs, 
and scarcely six months later a bracelet worth two 

hundred and fifty thousand, besides countless other 
[io8] 



t GAMBLING AND THEATRICALS t 

pieces, and that at a time when thousands of her 
subjects were roofless and clamoring for bread. 

The charges against Marie Antoinette have been 
greatly exaggerated, and the dignity with which she 
bore her misfortunes must command our sympathy 
and respect ; but her wanton extravagance in the 
face of so much misery is a blot on her memory 
that can never be effaced. 

Gaming at cards being much in vogue at court, 
the Queen was gradually drawn into that also. At 
first she played only with her intimate friends, but 
one day at Fontainebleau she begged permission of 
the King to send to Paris for a banker for herself 
and her companions. Louis at first objected, but, 
weak as usual, finally yielded "just for this once." 
For thirty-six hours they played without stopping ; 
from that time the Queen became completely ab- 
sorbed in gambling. She played incessantly, and 
lost enormous sums. Sometimes her monthly al- 
lowance of five hundred gold pieces — her pocket- 
money, as she called it — would go in a single night. 
The gowns of the ladies were often so black from 
the heaps of gold in their laps that they were forced 
to change them before they could appear in public. 
Disgraceful scenes and quarrels were of frequent 
occurrence. The Count d'Artois shrieked with 
joy when he won, and with rage when he lost. 
Once it was discovered that the dice were marked 

[109] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH * 

and cheating was going on. Another time when a 
bundle of bank-notes disappeared, it was proposed to 
search the pockets of the distinguished players. 
More than one adventurer made a fortune at the 
royal tables. An Englishman of large property 
and small reputation, lately returned from India, 
who boasted he had two hundred thousand gold 
pieces to stake, was admitted to the Queen's circle ; 
in a short time he had won over thirty million francs. 
All this could not but reflect upon the crown. 
Count Mercy blames the Queen severely in his 
letters, and the King no less, for permitting such an 
offence against royal dignity and such a cause for 
public complaint and scandal. 

It is plain from the foregoing that Marie Antoi- 
nette cared little for the society of clever or learned 
women ; she much preferred the admiration and 
flattery of the opposite sex to admonition or advice 
from her own. Her education was most imperfect, 
as we have seen. As Queen she was rarely known 
to open a book, nor did she improve in any way the 
advantages her position offered her. The moment 
any serious subject was broached, her expression 
betrayed a lack of interest. Her own conversation 
was frivolous and disconnected. She jumped from 
one subject to another and was most interested in 

lively, amusing gossip about people or events of the 
[no] 



* GAMBLING AND THEATRICALS t 

day. Literature received none of the encouragement 
from her that befitted the Queen of a great nation. 
She showed no appreciation of the famous poets and 
philosophers of her adopted country. 

Voltaire's visit to Paris was one of the great 
events of her husband's reign ; it excited the atten- 
tion of the whole city. The great satirist, a king 
himself in the intellectual world, who died loaded 
with laurel wreaths and honors, still thirsted, at the 
age of eighty, for the applause of courts and the 
smiles of royalty. He had referred to the young 
Queen of France as " the divine Antoinette," pro- 
fessing the liveliest admiration for her ; no sooner 
had he arrived in Paris than he expressed a desire 
to be presented to the sovereigns. Louis, however, 
saw in him only an enemy of Christianity and of 
Catholicism in particular, while Marie Antoinette 
cared as little for his literary achievements as she 
feared the power of his pen. Although besieged 
v/ith requests to receive him at Versailles, for once 
the Queen was firm in her refusal, and the doors of 
the court remained closed — a terrible blow to his 
vanity, which was almost as great as his name. One 
of his friends consoled him thus : 

" Permit me to describe what would have been 

your experience at Versailles : the King with his 

usual tact would have laughed in your face ; the 

Queen would have talked of nothing but the 

[I, I] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

theatre ; the Count de Provence would have in- 
quired into your revenues, and his wife would have 
quoted one of your verses ; the Countess d'Artois 
would have said nothing, and her husband would 
have discussed " La Pucelle "^ with you." 

The enthusiasm of the Parisians soon made Vol- 
taire forget the coldness of the royal pair. " For 
some weeks," says the Count de Segur, " there have 
been two courts in France, that of Louis the Good 
at Versailles, which has grown very dull, and that 
of Voltaire in Paris, where enthusiastic homage is 
daily offered." The philosopher of Ferney was 
made such an object of worship that echoes of it at 
last reached the ears of the Queen and roused her 
curiosity ; but she could not understand it at all. 
When the poet was publicly crowned at the Theatre 
Fran9ais with a laurel wreath, murmuring, overcome 
with emotion, " You will suffocate me with roses," 
Marie Antoinette sat in her box at the opera near 
by. She had not even thought it worth while to 
visit the theatre that evening. 

She also regarded with equal indifference the 
great exponent of naturalism, Jean Jacques Rousseau. 
Grimm tells of a visit made by the court one day 
to the gardens of Ermenonville. The Queen re- 
mained for some time on the Island of Poplars 



1 A celebrated satirical poem by Voltaire. 

[112] 



t GAMBLING AND THEATRICALS ® 

where Rousseau was buried, prompted, one would 
suppose, by interest in the dead philosopher. 
But no such honor was destined for his memory. 
She looked at the tomb, found its execution taste- 
ful and the spot beautiful — then suddenly began 
to talk of other things. She showed no further 
interest in the man to whose honor the monument 
was erected. 

Marie Antoinette's one talent and her chief in- 
terest in those days was music, the only art she may 
really be said to have fostered. With all her fickle- 
ness in other respects she never lost her love for it ; 
even as Queen she still continued her music and 
singing lessons. She also learned to play the harp, 
and frequently gave concerts in her apartments. It 
is true she never became proficient on any instru- 
ment, but she played readily at sight and loved to 
pose as a connoisseur in music. 

" I do not like French music," she declared one 
day ; " there is something shallow and empty about 
it that affects me disagreeably." 

To please her, the director of the Grand Opera 
sent to Vienna for Gluck to lead the perform- 
ances in Paris. To her he was not only the great 
composer but also a reminder of her home and 
youth. At the first production of his " Iphigenia 
in Tauris " the Dauphiness sat in the royal box 
loudly applauding her old master. But the French 
s [113] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

public did not altogether share her taste. The 
composer's masterpiece met with a cold reception. 
The production took place at the beginning of the 
year 1774, when the Countess du Barry was still 
at the height of her power. Having taken the 
Italian composer Piccini under her protection, a 
bitter rivalry developed between the adherents of 
the two schools. Strife even broke out in families, 
and friends were separated. Quarrels constantly 
occurred in the theatre, and it sometimes became 
necessary to separate people by force. Piccini's 
admirers would stop their ears at the sound of 
Gluck's music, while the latter's adherents shed 
tears of delight over their master's melodies. 

When Marie Antoinette became Queen she had 
an annual pension of six thousand francs bestowed 
on Gluck and granted him the entree to her morn- 
ing levees. His next opera, " Alceste," shared the 
fate of the first in spite of the Queen's presence and 
applause. Embittered and discouraged, the master 
determined to leave France after a stay of five years, 
but not until his royal pupil had extracted from 
him a promise to return, and given him the title 
of Music-master to the royal children. 

The first singer to undertake the title role in 
Gluck's "Armida" was Madame Saint-Huberti, a 
German by birth and the principal artist in French 
Opera at that time. Gluck himself rehearsed the 



t GAMBLING AND THEATRICALS t 

part with her, and Marie Antoinette professed the 
greatest admiration for her talent. Mile. Bertin 
had orders to furnish all the singer's costumes, and 
the Queen repeatedly paid her debts, which were 
not always small by any means. 

A dancer named August Vestris, famous all over 
Europe at that time, stood equally high in royal 
favor, " The god of dancing," as he was called, 
was much puffed up by his popularity, and some- 
times refused to appear at the last moment. One 
evening when the Queen was present, the young 
man indulged one of these caprices and was instantly 
arrested. Terrified at the consequences of his son's 
presumption, the father, an equally celebrated dan- 
cer in his day, besought the Queen's pardon. " My 
son was not aware that your Majesty had honored 
the performance with your presence," he declared. 
" Had he known it, how would it have been possi- 
ble for him to refuse to dance before his august 
patroness ? I am in despair at this misunderstand- 
ing between the Vestris and the Bourbons, who 
have always been upon such friendly terms." 

Marie Antoinette was highly amused at the old 
dancer's arrogance, and despatched one of her pages 
to order the release of Vestris, who then returned to 
the stage and exerted his whole art to please the 
sovereign. As she was leaving her box, the two 
men pressed forward to thank her. 

["5] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

" Monsieur Vestris," said the Queen, addressing 
the father, "you never danced so well as your son 
has this evening." 

" Naturally, your Majesty," replied the old man, 
" for I did not have a Vestris for a teacher." 

From her earliest youth Marie Antoinette had 
shown a marked fondness for the theatre. Most 
French palaces at that time contained a small theatre ; 
during the twenty years of her reign private theatri- 
cals were more than ever in vogue. The Queen 
had a small stage erected at Trianon, where actors 
from Paris originally appeared ; but she was soon 
tempted to take part herself. It was very properly 
agreed that the company should consist solely of 
ladies and the Count d'Artois, who was always at 
hand when any sort of amusement was in prospect ; 
while no one was to be admitted to the hall except 
the King, the Count de Provence, and the royal 
princesses. This rule was soon broken. At the 
instigation of her husband the Countess de Provence 
refused to take part, upon the pretext that she con- 
sidered it beneath her dignity ; in retaliation for 
which, Marie Antoinette allowed several courtiers 
to appear with them at the first performance and 
gave her ladies permission to be present with their 
sisters and daughters. At first the number of 
spectators did not exceed forty, but ofBcers of the 
guard with their families and others were gradually 
[ii6] 



t GAMBLING AND THEATRICALS t 

admitted, until the audience increased to two or 
three hundred every night. 

Only short pieces were played to begin with, but 
with the assistance of actors from Paris more ambi- 
tious attempts followed. Marie Antoinette's youth 
and freshness lent a charm to these performances; 
great as her distaste for study was, she always 
memorized her parts perfectly. She acted every 
kind of role except that of Queen, which she would 
never take ; her rich, full voice was naturally of so 
pleasing a tone that it was not necessary to put 
much feeling into it to make it effective. 

In spite of their inexperience the actors appear to 
have done very well. The Prince de Ligne pro- 
nounced the Queen's acting very bad ; Grimm, on 
the contrary, declares that " the plays at Trianon 
were better than amateur theatricals usually are.'* 

In after days Marie Antoinette regretted bitterly 
that her love for the theatre had carried her so far 
as to associate with actors and play their parts. It 
was most unfitting for the Queen of a great country 
to turn herself into a soubrette, and its effect was 
doubly unfortunate on the public, who, denied ad- 
mittance to these performances, saw in them only a 
mockery of the suffering that prevailed throughout 
the land. Innumerable tales were told regarding 
them, which were universally believed. The Queen 
was said to have acted so badly that the King 

[^17] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

hissed his illustrious consort; whereupon Marie 
Antoinette shouted from the stage, " Be quiet, 
barbarian ! " Others told how, finding her audience 
too small, the Queen had admitted a company of 
soldiers to the theatre that they might admire and 
applaud her; not only that, but she had so far for- 
gotten her dignity as to step before the footlights 
directly after the performance and say to the soldiers : 
" I have done what I could to please you, and only 
wish it might have been better, so that you might 
have had more pleasure ! " And this story was 
unfortunately true. 



[ii8] 



Chapter XIII 
yoy after Sorrow 




OMPLETELYas Marie Antoinette gave 
herself up to the pursuit of pleasure, it is 
only fair to admit that much may be said 
in her defence ; for whatever may have 
been her faults her husband was not without his 
also. Louis's coldness was a disappointment to the 
Dauphiness, and his reserve became a sorrow to the 
Queen. The people felt injured that no heir had 
been born to the throne, a fact which caused her 
the greatest distress, for she loved children and 
longed for them. The Countess d'Artois, whose 
marriage had taken place after hers, had long since 
become a mother ; at the sight of her with her chil- 
dren Marie Antoinette could scarcely restrain her 
tears. The passion with which she flung herself 
into the quest of amusement sprang largely from a 
desire to forget this sorrow and conceal the void in 
her life, for she felt that as long as she remained 
childless she would be looked upon as a stranger 
in France. 

["9] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

y/ounded to the heart by the indifference of the 
King, whom she grew to regard with contempt as 
lacking in spirit and character, and craving the affec- 
tion denied her by her husband, it is not to be won- 
dered at that alone in a strange land she was led 
into errors for which she has been too harshly 
judged. Both as mother and sovereign, Maria 
Theresa was most unreconciled to this state of 
affairs. So long as Marie Antoinette remained 
childless it would be impossible for her to acquire 
the influence necessary to the interests of Austria, 
and instead of soothing her daughter's trouble she 
constantly aggravated it by continually dv/elling on 
the subject. 

Marie Antoinette bore her mother's reproaches 
meekly, unjust as they were, and never but once 
did a word escape her to betray the real state of her 
feelings. When the Duchess de Chartres had a 
child born dead, the Queen envied her. " Sad as 
this is," she said to her, weeping, " 1 would gladly 
be in your place.'* 

As time went on Louis began to feel more and 
more drawn toward the Austrian Archduchess, in 
spite of his shyness. The first sign of warmer feel- 
ing was a pressure of the hand v/hen he retired every 
evening, so powerful that Marie Antoinette could 
sometimes scarcely repress a cry of pain. This was 

followed later, greatly to her surprise, by a kiss on 
[120] 



JOY AFTER SORROW 



^^ 



her forehead. In after years the Queen reproached 
herself bitterly for having lacked the courage to 
confess to her husband her loneliness and need of 
affection ; she would have been spared much grief 
over his apparent coldness, and perhaps have escaped 
calumny. 

In spite of his reserve, Louis was always kind to 
his wife and liked to please her ; whether from his 
deference to her quicker wit, his fear of opposition, 
or his secret affection for her, as many believed, it is 
certain she acquired such an influence over him that 
he appeared more like an inferior to her than a 
sovereign. But Marie Antoinette's passionate long- 
ing for happiness was not to be satisfied with Louis's 
timid, half-embarrassed tenderness; they might never 
have become attached to each other had it not 
been for the Queen's eldest brother, who at length 
succeeded in breaking the ice and bringing them 
together. 

In 1777 Emperor Joseph the Second made a 
visit to France under the name of Count Falken- 
stein. This was the second of Marie Antoinette's 
relatives to visit her, for her youngest brother Max- 
imilian had been there some years before. The 
weak-minded youth had scandalized the court, made 
himself a laughing-stock to the people, and caused 
his sister much embarrassment by his stupidity 

and tactlessness. Joseph, on the contrary, seemed 

[121] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

destined to bring good fortune to France. All 
classes were enthusiastic in his praises. Salons were 
charmed with the originality of his mind, fish-wives 
paid him compliments ; art, philosophy, and litera- 
ture vied in doing honor to the gracious and affable 
young Emperor. Even Aunt Adelaide, bitterly as 
she hated the Hapsburgs, was completely won over ; 
finding herself alone in the room with him one day, 
she flung her arms about his neck and kissed him. 

Marie Antoinette's joy at seeing her favorite 
brother again was boundless. Seven years had 
elapsed since her departure from home, and the 
innocent child of Schonbrunn had become the 
brilliant young Queen of Versailles. Joseph was 
charmed with her and proved a good friend and 
counsellor. He was not blind to her failings, how- 
ever, which he criticised somewhat too openly. 
Instead of expressing his disapprobation in private 
he often did so in the presence of the whole court. 

One morning, on visiting his sister he found Leon- 
ard just finishing a towering structure of flowers and 
feathers upon her head. Marie Antoinette asked 
him if he did not think her hair well dressed. 

" Yes," he replied, curtly. 

" Do you not think it becoming ? " she persisted. 

" To speak frankly," answered her brother, 
" your coiffure is much too flimsy to support a 
crown." 

[122] 



JOY AFTER SORROW 



Joseph urged his sister to read more, to be less 
frivolous and imprudent, and above all to show a 
greater respect for her royal dignity. He strongly 
disapproved also of her extravagance and love of 
card playing. " One thing is certain," he wrote to 
his mother, Maria Theresa, " if this continues, the 
court of France will soon degenerate into a gambling- 
den." In spite of their differences, however, the 
brother and sister were heartbroken when the time 
came to part. " I leave Versailles with regret and 
with the greatest admiration for my sister," writes 
Joseph ; " she is altogether lovely and captivating, 
and I was forced to summon all my strength of 
mind to bid her farewell." 

Louis's former indifference had by this time grown 
into a passionate devotion for his wife ; after all 
these years of marriage, their honeymoon had just 
begun. In August, 1778, it was announced that 
the nation's hopes were at last to be realized. 
Marie Antoinette's cup of happiness was full. 
She wrote joyfully to all her relatives of the ex- 
pected event and could talk of nothing else. All 
France was wild with joy. For a time the voice 
of calumny was silenced, and the public enthusiasm 
recompensed the Queen for the reproaches she had 
so long been forced to endure. Masses were said 
in all the churches and convents ; daily prayers were 

['23] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

offered up throughout the kingdom for the Queen 
and the expected heir. People flocked to the palace, 
deputations were sent to offer blessings, and mag- 
nificent entertainments took place in honor of the 
event. 

Yet there were some who did not share in the " 
general rejoicings. Marie Antoinette's happiness 
gave great offence to the King's aunts. The King's 
brothers and their wives maintained an outward ap- 
pearance of becoming interest, but in secret they 
were far from pleased. The ministers who had 
hitherto ruled the King began to fear the power 
of Marie Antoinette ; and those persons at court 
who were not of Mme. Polignac's party resented 
the prospect of being cast into the shade. 

The anxiously awaited event took place on the 
twentieth of December, 1778, when the Queen gave 
birth to a daughter, afterwards Duchess d'Angou- 
leme. Marie Antoinette had hoped for an heir to 
the throne and was bitterly disappointed ; neverthe- 
less she was at last the mother of a living, healthy 
child. " Poor little one ! " she cried, clasping her 
first-born to her heart, " you shall be none the less 
dear to me if you are not the longed-for Dauphin. 
A son would have belonged to the State ; you shall 
be all my own." 

The King was so overcome with the joy of 
[124] 




7\/TME. ADELAIDE 

(From a fainting by Mme. Lebrun) 



JOY AFTER SORROW 



fatherhood and pride in his new dignity that he did 
not know hov/ to express his feelings. He ran 
from his wife's bedside to his daughter's cradle, 
held the babe in his arms, laid it down again, carried 
it to its mother, and endeavored by his tenderness 
to make Marie Antoinette forget her disappoint- 
ment. Rather than leave her he even abandoned 
hunting, one of the few amusements in which he 
indulged, and every morning he was the first at her 
bedside, where he spent all his time. Every few 
moments he would go and look at his daughter, 
whom he was never weary of gazing at or caressing. 
At her christening the Princess received the 
names, Marie Therese Charlotte. The ceremony 
took place in Paris, which was illuminated in honor 
of the event. Free performances were held in all 
the theatres, and gifts were distributed among the 
people. But there was less public enthusiasm than 
had been expected ; while famine was abroad in the 
land and taxes were crushing the people, the arrival 
of a princess aroused little interest. The day after 
her birth one of the court ladies said, " The Queen 
must do better next time"; and the Empress 
Maria Theresa wrote in a confidential letter, " This 
little Maria Theresa was not needed." She became 
more than ever bent upon having a grandson in 
France after this, not only in order to establish 
her daughter's position firmly, but to secure her 



# MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

domestic happiness. " I am consumed with impa- 
tience," she wrote to Marie Antoinette, " and my 
age will not permit me long to wait. We must 
have a Dauphin — we absolutely must!" 

This desire was not to be fulfilled during her 
lifetime. Worn with the cares and troubles of 
sovereignty, the Empress's health had long been 
failing; on the twenty-fourth of November, 1780, 
she was taken seriously ill. The physicians gave 
no hope, the last sacrament was administered, but 
indomitable as ever she refused to yield, even at 
the approach of death ; she remained standing to 
the end. She discussed various questions and ar- 
ranged details concerning the government of the 
realm with her son Joseph, gave directions as to 
her burial, and left loving messages to her subjects, 
preserving her strength of character and clearness 
of mind to the very last. Just before her death 
she left a blessing to each of her children, absent 
and present. At the name of Marie Antoinette 
her voice faltered and her eyes filled with tears. 
In this hour of parting she seemed aware that 
dangerous times were in store for her favorite 
child. 

On the sixth of December, 1780, the news of 

her decease reached Versailles. Marie Antoinette's 

grief was indescribable. For twelve days she shut 

herself up and could talk of nothing but her mother, 

[126] 



JOY AFTER SORROW 



— her virtues, her counsels, her example. Nor was 
she this time alone in her sorrow. In spite of the 
universal prejudice in France against the house of 
Hapsburg, only expressions of the highest esteem 
and grief for the dead Empress were heard. In 
Germany her loss was deeply mourned ; even her 
inflexible enemy Frederick the Second did honor to 
her memory. 

The following year a Dauphin was born to 
France, and the whole country went mad with joy. 
People laughed and cried, strangers embraced one 
another ; even those who had been hostile to the 
Queen caught the general enthusiasm. For a whole 
month the rejoicings continued, and in those days 
Marie Antoinette seemed to have reached the sum- 
mit of earthly happiness. Her fondest hopes real- 
ized, beloved by her husband, the mother of an 
heir to the throne, surrounded by the throng of 
friends and admirers that always attend the fortu- 
nate, seemingly beloved and admired by ail, she 
was for the time the foremost figure in the first 
court of Europe. 



[127] 



Chapter XIV 
The ^ueen as Mother 




'ITH the dignity of motherhood, Marie 
Antoinette felt that new duties were 
required of her. The artificial life of 
the court had long since become weari- 
some, and after the birth of her children she gave 
up most of the frivolities that had hitherto occupied 
her time. She still committed some imprudences, 
it is true, for habits of long standing are not to be 
thrown off in a day, but it was evident that she 
strove to lead a different life. Realizing the defects 
of her own education, she was anxious to avoid the 
mistakes of which Maria Theresa had been guilty; 
though devoted to her children, she was a wise and 
judicious mother. 

Three years after the birth of the Dauphin (1784) 
she presented the royal house with another prince, 
afterwards the unfortunate so-called Louis the Seven- 
teenth, who received the title of Duke of Normandy ; 
and the following year a princess, Sophie Beatrice, 
was born, but lived only a year, 
[128] 



THE QUEEN AS MOTHER 



The Queen's mind now seemed for the first time 
to turn to serious matters. She became more regu- 
lar in her religious duties and had long, earnest 
conversations with her confessor and other priests. 
She completely altered her style of dress, and the 
towerino: coiffures with their flowers and feathers 
were abandoned. 

" I shall soon be thirty years old," she said to 
Mademoiselle Bertin ; " it is not likely that any 
one will remind me of the fact, but I have not 
forgotten it." 

Her intimate friends were terrified at this change 
in her, and began to fear lest their influence should 
be replaced by that of the priests. Anything ap- 
proaching pride of birth or arrogance was sternly 
suppressed in the royal children ; the Queen was 
especially strict with her eldest daughter. Dearly 
as she loved her, she was not blind to her faults. 
" Marie Therese, now six years old, has a difficult 
disposition to deal with," writes Marie Antoinette 
in one of her letters ; " her pride is inordinate, and 
she is only too well aware that the blood of Maria 
Theresa and Louis the Fourteenth flows in her 
veins." 

She humored none of this child's caprices. Every 

morning at ten o'clock the Princess was taken to her 

mother's room, where she had lessons for an hour. 

One day " Madame Royal " was not in the mood 

9 [129] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

for study, and asked that her tutor might be dis- 
missed, pleading a headache as excuse. *' Very well, 
my child," said the Queen, " but if your head aches 
you must go to bed and have no dinner." After a 
time the Princess got hungry and begged for some- 
thing to eat, but was reminded of her headache and 
the Queen's orders. At last her hunger became so 
unendurable that she confessed her falsehood and 
begged her mother's forgiveness, which was not 
granted until she had taken the hour's lessons 
she had tried to evade. 

When the Princess was to be confirmed, the Queen 
had several young girls of her own age prepare for the 
ceremony with her and permitted no distinction to 
be made between them. " My children have always 
been accustomed to confide in me and confess any 
wrong-doing," she wrote to Madame de Tourzel, 
"and when forced to reprove them I appear more 
grieved than angry. They have been taught that 
' yes ' or ' no ' once spoken is irrevocable, but I am 
careful to give a reason for my decisions that they 
can understand, that they may not think them 
merely the result of caprice." 

The Princess de Guemene was the first governess 
of the royal children. Her husband, who had been 
made Lord Chamberlain, was once enormously 
wealthy, but their boundless extravagance gradually 
reduced them to bankruptcy, and he was forced to 



t THE QUEEN AS MOTHER t 

borrow money at high interest to satisfy the demands 
of his creditors. At last it became impossible for 
him to maintain this position any longer, and he v/as 
obliged to stop all payments, involving in his down- 
fall a large number of tradespeople, retainers, and 
workingmen who had entrusted the great lord with 
all their hard-earned savings. After this scandalous 
affair it was impossible for his wife to continue as 
governess to the royal children, and the Queen was 
anxious to confer the position upon Madame Po- 
lignac. Although terrified at the responsibility 
involved, and well aware of the jealousy it would 
arouse and the enemies it would m.ake for her if 
she accepted it, she yielded finally to the wishes 
of her sovereign and the importunities of her 
family, and the appointment was made, thus plac- 
ing Madame de Polignac at the summit of her 
ambitions and her power. Instead of the modest 
abode that had usually sufficed for royal governesses 
in former reigns, she occupied a splendid palace, 
Vv'hich was the favorite resort of Her Majesty. 
"Here I can be myself!" Marie Antoinette was 
wont to declare. She spent whole days at her 
friend's house, which soon became a rendezvous 
for all the great personages of the kingdom. Had 
it not been for the absence of the royal guard, one 
might have imagined himself in the King's and 
Qaeen\s own salon. 

[131] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

The favorite's situation was not altogether a pleas- 
ant one. Marie Antoinette, it is true, appeared 
to divide her affections equally between her chil- 
dren and their governess, particularly in the earlier 
days of their friendship ; but the feeble health of 
the Dauphin made the governess's task one of great 
difficulty and anxiety. From a handsome, robust 
child the little Prince had become pale, thin, and 
prematurely bent. One shoulder grew higher than 
the other, a hump formed on his back, and with the 
loss of physical strength came a decrease in mental 
vigor. His mother, who had once been so proud 
of her oldest son, now jealously guarded him from 
strange eyes, lest sport should be made of the future 
occupant of the throne, whose shrunken legs could 
hardly support his weight. However selfish Marie 
Antoinette may have been in other respects, it must 
be said to her credit that she spared herself no sacri- 
fice to humor the feeble and exacting child, or shield 
him from any source of irritation. 

His tutor, the Duke de Harcourt, and his wife, 
who were bitterly jealous of Madame Polignac, suc- 
ceeded in turning the Dauphin, too, against his 
mother's friend. Young as he was, he would order 
her from the room, refuse to accept anything from 
her hand, and treat all her suggestions with the 
most evident contempt. The governess complained 
bitterly of the Harcourts' persecutions, and Marie 
[132] 




M 



ARiE ANroiNErrE 

and her children 



(From a painting by Mme. Lebrun ) 



THE QUEEN AS MOTHER 



Antoinette was much disturbed by their hostility. 
She did everything in her power to overcome her 
son's prejudice, and might eventually have suc- 
ceeded had not a shameful calumny turned the 
heart of her own child against her. A malicious 
report was circulated by her enemies that the 
physical infirmities of her eldest son had caused 
the Queen to transfer her affection to the younger 
prince, who was stronger and better formed than 
his unfortunate brother. Harcourtwas base enough 
to make use of this lie for his own ends. He ad- 
vised his pupil to taste nothing that had not been 
previously examined by the physicians, and hinted 
openly that some woman near to the Dauphin was 
anxious to shorten his days. This infamous slander 
made so deep an impression on the diseased mind of 
the young Prince that he could never look at his 
mother from that time without betraying fear of her. 

Marie .Aritoinette's elevation of the Polignacs to 
a power and position usually enjoyed only by those 
of the highest rank had caused displeasure among 
the great families of France, who could not forgive 
her having slighted them in favor of the friends they 
looked upon as far beneath them. Those who were 
not invited to Trianon no longer troubled them- 
selves to go to Versailles, and the palace was de- 
serted. The ladies-in-waiting, who were required to 

[^33] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

be present on Sundays and on state occasions only, 
vied with one another in maligning not alone the 
members of Marie Antoinette's private circle, but 
the Queen herself, who distributed her favors so 
unequally and so unjustly. 

The little town that had been the scene of Louis 
the Fourteenth's triumphs, whither people had 
flocked from ail parts of Europe to study court 
customs and etiquette, had become toward the end of 
Louis the Sixteenth's reign a mere village, visited 
with reluctance and departed from as speedily as 
possible. On week days the courtyard of the 
palace, the antechambers, and the state apartments, 
formerly filled with brilliant assemblages, were so 
deserted that a stranger would have supposed the 
King absent. Only greed and ambition remained. 
People no longer sought the protection of the sov- 
ereigns, but fawned on those who were known to 
possess royal favor. Louis the Sixteenth, whose 
accession had been hailed with such rejoicings, was 
now declared to be without either the virtues or the 
qualities of a King. By far the greater part of pub- 
lic disfavor fell upon Marie Antoinette, who had 
shown much more disregard for popular prejudice 
than had her husband. 

Beaumarchais's " Marriage of Figaro,'* which, as 
it first appeared, was filled with stinging satires on 
the royal family, did much to strengthen the feeling 
[134] 



THE QUEEN AS MOTHER 



against the Queen throughout the kingdom and 
among all classes. For a long time the King re- 
fused to permit the production of the piece, but this 
opposition only served to whet public curiosity. 
The play was read in all the salons, and Beaumar- 
chais had the audacity to declare that despite the 
King's prohibition it should be produced, were it 
even in the Cathedral of Notre Dame. The Count 
de Provence pronounced it admirable and laughed 
so loudly when it was read to him that he could be 
heard in the street without; the Queen could not 
understand why her husband should attach such im- 
portance to the performance of a play, while the 
upper classes were eager to see their own follies and 
weaknesses held up before them on the stage. 
Overruled by popular opinion, Louis at last yielded 
and reluctantly gave his consent to the production 
of the piece in 1784, greatly to the joy of the public, 
whose curiosity to see the "Marriage of Figaro" 
was boundless. 

" The play will be a fiasco," some one remarked to 
the actress Sophie Arnould before the performance. 

"Then it will be a fiasco fifty times in succes- 
sion ! " replied the famous artist. And she was 
right, for it was played not fifty, but one hundred 
times in succession. At eight o'clock in the morn- 
ing long lines of people would be waiting before the 
theatre to buy tickets. " Even more amusing than 

[135] 



* MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH * 

my play," declared the poet, " is the luck it has met 
with/' It abounded with veiled attacks on the 
royal family and spite against the upper classes; in 
the heat of his first anger the King ordered Beau- 
marchais imprisoned, not in the Bastille but at St. 
Lazare, which was still more degrading. Public 
indignation was so aroused by this that Louis re- 
pented his impetuosity ; Marie Antoinette, anxious 
to make amends, determined to have the poet's next 
piece produced at Trianon and invited him to be 
present at the performance. This was a triumph 
for the author, but an imprudence on the part of 
the Queen. Small as was the number of spectators 
who witnessed the production of " The Barber of 
Seville," it was large enough to spread abroad the 
exciting news of how a royal prince (the Count 
d* Artois took the leading part) had uttered, in jest it 
is true, but from the Queen's own stage, the most 
virulent protests against the nobility and sovereignty 
of France. 



[136] 



Chapter XV 

The Diamond Necklace 




MID all the general discontent and disturb- 
^\\ ance in the year 1785 an attack was made 
IL^ \ against the Queen's honor, to which her 
enemies conspired to give publicity and 
which really proved the beginning of her misfor- 
tunes. The principal characters in the famous story 
of the Queen's necklace were the Countess de la 
Motte-Valois and Louis, Prince de Rohan, Cardinal 
and chief prelate of the court of France, 

The Countess de la Motte, a handsome, clever, 
and most designing woman, claimed descent from 
the house of Valois through Baron Saint-Remy, a 
natural son of King Henry the Second. Her lofty 
birth did not prevent her mother from eloping 
with a common soldier, and her father ended his 
wretched existence in a charity hospital. Jeanne 
Saint-Remy- Valois had come to Paris to beg for 
alms and was discovered on the streets by a be- 
nevolent woman, who adopted her and gave her an 
education. The young girl soon deserted her ben- 
efactress to marry Count de la Motte, a man of bad 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH ® 

repute, repulsive in appearance, and heavily in debt. 
Without money or position, proud of her name but 
humbled by her poverty, Madame de la Motte be- 
came possessed of an insatiable desire for luxury at 
any price. She sent petitions without number and 
repeatedly visited Versailles and Luciennes, where 
the Countess du Barry resided, but all in vain. Oh 
one occasion she succeeded in obtaining entrance to 
the Countess de Provence's antechamber, where she 
pretended to fall in a swoon, but even this piece 
of acting failed in its purpose ; again, when she at- 
tempted during a procession to deliver a petition 
to the Queen, Her Majesty passed by without a 
glance. Marie Antoinette was able truthfully to 
declare later that she had never even laid eyes on 
the Countess de la Motte. 

The second person chiefly concerned in the affair 
of the necklace. Prince Louis de Rohan, was a 
member of one of the noblest families of France. 
Shortly after the marriage of Marie Antoinette he 
was made ambassador to the court of Austria, a 
choice that could scarcely have been more un- 
fortunate. Dissolute, extravagant, and without any 
of the requirements for such a position, he not only 
proved useless as a diplomat, but was so personally 
objectionable to Maria Theresa that she did not 
hesitate to express her disapproval of his conduct 
both as a diplomatist and a priest. In his attempts 



t THE DIAMOND NECKLACE t 

to dazzle Vienna by his display of luxury he soon 
became involved in financial difficulties, to relieve 
which he made use of his privileges as ambassador 
and smuggled so boldly that the Austrian govern- 
ment was forced to interfere. In a single year there 
was more silk sold at the French embassy than in 
Paris and Lyons together. 

One of the first steps taken by Louis the Sixteenth 
after his accession was the recall of Rohan from 
Vienna, and neither of the sovereigns would grant 
him an audience on his return. Marie Antoinette 
was unable to shake off a feeling that this man was 
to bring misfortune to her; in what way it was im- 
possible naturally for her to foresee, but never was 
a presentiment better founded. No sooner had the 
ex-diplomat returned to Paris than his relatives, 
among whom were Marshal Soubise, the Countess 
de Marsan, and the Princess de Guemene, bestirred 
themselves to secure new honors and revenues for 
him. Braving the Queen's coldness and the King's 
displeasure, they finally succeeded by their persist- 
ence and Rohan became an archbishop and Grand 
Almoner of France, while at the intercession of the 
King of Poland, the Pope made him a cardinal. 
The Queen did all in her power to prevent his 
appointment to the chief prelacy, but her influ- 
ence was small at that time, and the powerful 
family of Rohan-Soubise overruled the weak King's 

[139] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

objections. Cardinal Rohan, with all his frivolity 
and extravagance, was the vainest of men and felt the 
coldness of the sovereigns keenly. Thwarted in his 
ambition as a courtier by their neglect, he tried in 
every possible way to gain the Queen's favor ; he 
wrote her letter after letter, but she would not even 
condescend to open them, and despite all his efforts 
he was never able to obtain a word or a glance from 
Her Majesty. All the memoirs of the time, as well 
as the records of the trial, confirm this fact. 

His failures did not discourage the prelate, but 
just at this time, unfortunately, he made the ac- 
quaintance of Madame de la Motte. He relieved 
her most pressing needs with gifts of money, and 
she confessed to him her anxiety to attract the 
notice of the Queen. About a year after this the 
Countess informed Rohan that her desire had been 
gratified and that Marie Antoinette, distressed that 
a descendant of Henry the Second should have met 
with such undeserved misfortunes, had taken her 
under her protection, granted her private interviews, 
and intrusted her with secret commissions. Al- 
though the Cardinal himself was in disgrace, it 
would have been easy through his influential rela- 
tions to find out the truth of these statements, but 
this does not seem to have occurred to him and he 
believed the Countess implicitly. To complete the 

deception she showed him letters purporting to 
[140] 



t THE DIAMOND NECKLACE ^ 

have been written by the Queen, filled with expres- 
sions of kindness and affection. Declaring herself 
touched by the interest Rohan had shown in her, 
Madame de la Motte offered to use her influence 
in his behalf and began at once to pose as his 
benefactress. Her plans were laid by this time, and 
she pursued them with a skill and perseverance 
worthy of a better cause. 

Rohan was enraptured, and the Countess took 
care to keep him so. The Queen's prejudice against 
him was gradually disappearing, she declared, and 
Her Majesty had even consented to accept a written 
vindication on his part. With the aid of Madame 
de la Motte, a supposed correspondence now began 
between Marie Antoinette and the Cardinal. His 
letters overflowed with gratitude and admiration ; 
hers were kind and friendly. They were written 
by a friend of the Count's, an ex-police ofKcer 
named Retaux de Villette, who did not even take 
the trouble to imitate the Queen's handwriting. 
Rohan was far too hopeful to be suspicious ; the 
only thing lacking to crown his happiness was a 
personal assurance of forgiveness from his royal 
mistress. This greatly embarrassed the Countess, 
but he urged her so strongly that she finally 
promised him an interview with Her Majesty, not 
an audience at Versailles but an evening meeting in 
the palace gardens. The Cardinal was overjoyed. 

[i4>] 



MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH 



^p 



Night after night he walked in the garden, anx- 
iously awaiting the moment that was to crown his 
fortunes. At last, late one evening, the Countess 
appeared. 

"Come quickly!" she cried, "the Queen has 
sent for you ! " Rohan hurried after her to a dark 
pathway near a hedge, where he found a lady 
dressed all in white. She handed him a rose, mur- 
muring : " You know what this betokens ! " 

At that moment a man hastened toward them. 
" Beware ! " he whispered, " yonder come the Coun- 
tesses of Provence and Artois ! " 

The lady quickly vanished behind the hedge, 
while the Cardinal remained upon the spot, con- 
vinced that he had seen Marie Antoinette and 
heard her voice. 

The unsuspecting prelate little dreamed that 
Madame de la Motte, to whom he had shown 
nothing but kindness, was using him merely as a 
tool. Moreover, Cagliostro, a famous quack, re- 
garded by many as a supernatural being, and in 
whom he had implicit confidence, had foretold to 
him that a certain correspondence would prove most 
fortunate and bring him into favor again, but that 
his whole happiness depended on his silence and 
patience. The reader will have guessed by this 
time that the woman seen by the Cardinal in the 
garden was not the Queen. 
[H2] 



t THE DIAMOND NECKLACE t 

While he was pressing the Countess for a meet- 
ing with Marie Antoinette, her husband had noticed 
a girl in the street who bore a striking resemblance 
to Her Majesty. He followed and made acquaint- 
ance with this person, who proved to be a Made- 
moiselle le Guay from one of the small theatres 
in Paris, known among her associates by the name 
of Oliva. A few days later the Count visited her 
and informed her that a lady of rank desired to see 
her and had commissioned him to arrange a meet- 
ing as soon as possible. That evening Madame de 
la Motte herself appeared. 

" You do not know me," she began, " but I 
must beg you to trust me. I am wholly in the 
confidence of the Queen, and she has asked me to 
find some one who will be ready to do her a service 
when the time comes. I have chosen you. If you 
will agree to my proposal, I will give you fifteen 
thousand francs, and you may look for a still greater 
reward from Her Majesty." 

To prove the truth of her words she showed 
some of the letters written by the Cardinal. These 
convinced the girl, and although greatly astonished 
at the honor shown her, she agreed to do whatever 
was desired of her. At an appointed time the 
Count de la Motte appeared with his accomplice, 
Retaux de Villette, in a coach, and the three drove 
to Versailles, where they were met by the Countess 

[H3] 



S MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

at the hotel where she was in the habit of staying. 
The two men disappeared for a time, but soon re- 
turned to inform Oliva that the Queen was pleased 
to hear of her arrival and looked forward to seeing 
her the next day. 

" What am I to do there ? " inquired the girl. 

" That you will learn to-morrow,'* was the mys- 
terious reply. That was the day set for the meet- 
ing between Rohan and the pretended Queen. The 
descendant of Henry of Valois prepared the actress 
for this interview with her own hands. She dressed 
her in a white gown over a pink petticoat, threw 
a white mantle over her shoulders, arranged her 
hair like the Queen's, and, last of all, put a letter 
into her hand. 

" I will go with you to the palace gardens," she 
said, " where a gentleman of the highest rank will 
approach you. You are to give him this letter with 
a rose and say to him, 'You know what this be- 
tokens 1 * That is all that will be required of 
you." 

This meeting we have already described. In her 
confusion, Oliva forgot to deliver the letter. She 
took her departure at once, rejoiced that she had 
been able to do the Queen a service so easily, with- 
out an afterthought apparently of the comedy in 
which she had played a part. 

Madame de la Motte's labors were by no means 
[H4] 




r ouis xvi. 

{From a painting by Duminil) 



t THE DIAMOND NECKLACE t 

ended, however. She was now about to reap the 
reward of her pains. A month after this secret 
meeting the Cardinal received a letter ostensibly 
from Marie Antoinette in which she expressed a 
desire for the sum of sixty thousand francs for chari- 
table purposes. The Queen*s wish was law to 
Rohan, who promptly delivered the money to the 
Countess, her usual messenger, in whom he still had 
undiminished confidence. Instead of the promised 
fifteen thousand francs, Oliva received only four 
thousand with the assurance that Her Majesty was 
well pleased with the way in which she had per- 
formed her part ; the larger part was devoted to 
the support of the La Motte family. Three months 
later, the Queen was again in need of money. This 
time she asked for one hundred thousand francs, 
and the Cardinal complied without question. The 
La Mottes now began to live in great style, em- 
ployed more servants, bought a coach and horses, 
and reports of the favor enjoyed by the Countess 
with the Queen were circulated far and wide. 

We now come to the second chapter of the story. 
The court jewellers, Bohmer and Bassange, had made 
a diamond necklace worth one million six hundred 
thousand francs, which they were anxious to sell to 
Her Majesty. One of the courtiers brought it to the 
King's notice, and he was disposed to get it for his 

[H5] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH * 

wife, who had just presented him with their first 
child. Marie Antoinette admired it exceedingly, 
but sent it back. The American war had just 
broken out, and she declared with reason, that 
it was more necessary to buy war vessels than 
jewels. 

The necklace was sent to every court in Europe, 
but the price was considered exorbitant and no one 
would buy it. In despair, Bohmer sought a private 
audience with the Queen and implored her to help 
them, declaring they would be ruined unless they 
could dispose of the ornament, but again he was re- 
fused. Having heard much of the intimacy that 
was said to exist between Her Majesty and the 
Countess de la Motte, he next went to the latter 
and begged her to use her influence in his behalf. 
The Countess made no promises, and Bohmer be- 
gan to fear this last effort would prove as fruitless 
as the rest, when, after a lapse of three months, he 
was informed that the Queen had decided to buy 
the necklace after all, but not wishing to deal with 
him personally, would send a person of high rank 
to arrange the affair. A few days later. Cardinal 
Rohan appeared in behalf of Her Majesty and an 
agreement was made. The price was fixed at one 
million six hundred thousand francs, to be paid in 
four instalments, at intervals of six months ; the fact 
of the Queen's being the purchaser was to be kept 

,[146] 



t THE DIAMOND NECKLACE * 

secret. A contract was drawn up and returned by 
Rohan, at the bottom of which was written, 

" Received, 

Marie Antoinette of France." 

Bohmer was not familiar with the Queen^s hand- 
writing, and the Cardinal was too important a per- 
sonage to excite suspicion, so the jeweller delivered 
the jewels to him without a thought. That evening 
Rohan, accompanied by his chamberlain bearing the 
precious casket, went to Mme. de la Motte's hotel at 
Versailles. Scarcely had he arrived when a man in the 
royal livery entered with a letter, which the Countess 
took from him, saying, " This is from the Queen.** 
This servant, whom the Cardinal recognized as the 
man he had seen in the garden at the time of his 
supposed interview with the Queen, and who in re- 
ality was the accomplice Retaux de Villette, retired but 
soon returned, and Rohan saw the necklace deliv- 
ered to him, without doubting for a moment that it 
would eventually reach the hands of Marie Antoi- 
nette. The next day there was a grand reception 
at court; both he and the jeweller stationed them- 
selves where they could watch the royal family pass, 
hoping to see the necklace adorning the Queen's 
neck. Greatly to their surprise and disappointment, 
she wore only her old jewels. 

Months passed, but the famous necklace never 

[■47] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

appeared, while the Cardinal was treated with the 
same coldness and disdain as before. He could not 
understand her caprices, but still received most af- 
fectionate, reassuring letters, and no suspicion of the 
truth occurred to him. Meanwhile the necklace 
had been broken up and the jewels sold in Paris 
and London. The worthy Countess and her hus- 
band now developed the most boundless extrava- 
gance ; they filled their house with the most costly 
articles and bought a magnificent villa on the coast, 
although when Rohan came to visit them they were 
careful to receive him in a more modest abode. 

One day Bohmer chanced to meet the Cardinal, 
who upbraided him for not having expressed his 
gratitude to Her Majesty. The jeweller hastened 
to repair his error. Making out a bill for some 
small items, he enclosed it in a letter to the Queen 
thanking her for the enormous purchase she had 
made, and concluded with the following words : 
" We are truly rejoiced to know that the most beau- 
tiful ornament in existence is in the possession of 
the loveliest and best of Queens.'' 

Thinking the man must have lost his mind, 
Marie Antoinette burned the letter and determined 
to have no more dealings with him. The first day 
of payment passed, yet no money was forthcoming, 
but the Countess delivered a small sum to the 
Cardinal in the Queen's name, requesting him to 
[,48] 



t THE DIAMOND NECKLACE t 

procure a temporary delay. Meanwhile Bassange, 
the other partner, becoming uneasy, had obtained a 
sight of the Queen's own handwriting, and on com- 
paring it with the signature in possession of the 
firm, discovered the difference at once. While 
Bohmer was vainly endeavoring to obtain another 
audience with the Queen, Bassange went to Mme. 
de la Motte and threatened her with proceedings. 
She was prepared for this, however, and had her 
plans all made. They were quite simple. The 
Cardinal, who would resort to any means to prevent 
exposure of an affair which would not only ruin 
him but make him ridiculous for all time, must be 
made to pay for the necklace. She confessed to 
the goldsmith that he had been the victim of a fraud 
and that the Queen's signature was false, but as- 
sured him that Rohan was bound in honor to fulfil 
the contract, if only to purchase silence in regard to 
the matter. Leaving Bassange irresolute, she has- 
tened to her ecclesiastical friend and besought his 
protection against the Queen, who now, she de- 
clared, denied ever having received the necklace. 
The prelate began to suspect the trap in which he 
was caught, but refused to believe the whole truth. 
Surely all the events of the past year, her friendly 
and affectionate letters could not have been inven- 
tions of his fancy 1 He dared not mention his 
doubts and anxieties to his family, who knew 

[H9] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

nothing of his imaginary relations with Marie An- 
toinette, so he resorted again to Cagliostro for 
counsel. Far from reassuring him, however, the 
seer only strengthened his forebodings and advised 
him either to confess all to the King or make 
some arrangement with the jewellers as soon as 
possible. 

Bohmer, meanwhile, had at last succeeded in 
obtaining speech with one of the Queen's ladies- 
in-waiting, who assured him that Her Majesty had 
not understood a word of his enigmatical letter. 
The Queen, being then at Trianon rehearsing her 
role in " The Barber of Seville," could not receive 
him, but on her return to Versailles, hearing from 
the lady-in-waiting of the jeweller's visit, a suspi- 
cion occurred to her that perhaps Bohmer was not 
demented after all, but had been imposed upon. 
She sent for him the next day, and the whole plot 
was brought to light. This was on the fifteenth of 
August, 1785. 

Cardinal Rohan was at once summoned ; he ap- 
peared before the assembled court in his robes of 
state. He was taken into the King's workshop, 
where the sovereigns awaited him. Ten years had 
passed since he had had an opportunity of looking 
closely at the real Marie Antoinette. He hastily 
compared her with the lady he had seen in the gar- 
den, and his composure completely forsook him. 
[150] 






t THE DIAMOND NECKLACE * 

The Queen had grown stouter In that time and her 
face was more oval than that of Mile. Oliva. 

" At whose order did you purchase a necklace for 
the Queen of France ? " demanded the King. 

" Your Majesty/* stammered the Cardinal, " I 
see, too late, that 1 have been made a fool of." 

" What did you do with this necklace ? '* con- 
tinued Louis. 

I supposed the Queen had received it." 
Who gave you the commission to buy it? " 

"A lady named La Motte-Valois, who brought 
me a letter from the Queen ; I thought to please 
Her Majesty by so doing.** 

" You thought to please me ! ** cried the Queen, 
beside herself with anger ; " me, who have never 
addressed a word to you since your first appearance 
at court ! Is it likely that I would have employed 
a bishop to do the work of servants ? '* 

" I see now that I have been deceived,** said the 
Cardinal. " I will pay for the necklace. My 
anxiety to serve Your Majesty blinded me. I 
suspected no fraud.'* 

He drew from his portfolio the document bear- 
ing the supposed signature of Marie Antoinette. 
" That is no more the Queen's handwriting than it 
is her signature,** said the King, after inspecting the 
paper ; " how was it possible for the chief prelate of 
the kingdom to believe that she would sign herself 

[151] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

* Marie Antoinette of France * ? Every one knows 
that Queens use nothing but their Christian name. 
I am forced to pronounce you guilty/' he continued, 
" and must have a written vindication. You will 
find ink and paper in the next room." 

Rohan obeyed, but was in such a state of agita- 
tion he could scarcely write a legible word. A 
quarter of an hour later, he returned with a paper 
which the King took from him, saying, " I hereby 
pronounce you under arrest." 

" Sire," cried the Cardinal, " I will always obey 
your commands, but spare me the ignominy of a 
public arrest ! " 

" It must be," replied Louis, harshly, leaving 
the room without another word. Rohan was arrested 
before the eyes of the whole court and taken to the 
Bastille, but not before he had managed to get word 
to his private secretary, the Abbe Georgel, to burn 
all his letters, especially those from Madame de la 
Motte. 

The King's councillor, the Count of Vergennes, 
wished to avoid antagonizing the aristocracy by per- 
mitting such a scandal about one of their number to 
be made public, but was overruled by the Queen, 
who in the first heat of her anger believed that 
Rohan had deliberately planned this intrigue to ruin 
her. The arrest of the Countess with her husband 
and accomplice, Retaux de Villette, soon followed, 
[152] 



t THE DIAMOND NECKLACE t 

while Cagliostro and Mile. Oliva were also impris- 
oned. The sensation caused by these events can 
easily be imagined. A Prince de Rohan under 
arrest ! a Cardinal accused of having fraudulently 
obtained a diamond necklace for his own uses ! It 
was something unheard of! Both the nobility and 
the clergy were outraged ; the Queen's own friends 
sided against her openly, and the other members of 
the royal family blamed the sovereigns severely for 
the step they had taken. Public sympathy was all 
in favor of the accused ; a hatred arose among the 
lower classes for royalty, especially for the Queen, 
who was generally regarded as the real culprit in the 
affair. 

The Cardinal, who had behaved like a fool, 
was hailed with acclamations when he entered the 
Hall of Justice and was treated more like a sovereign 
than a criminal. 

The Countess de la Motte, who persistently 
denied all share in the swindle, was publicly flogged, 
branded with the letter V {yoleuse — thief), and 
sentenced to imprisonment for life at La Salpetriere. 
She managed to excite general interest and sympa- 
thy, hov/ever, and at the end of a year was aided to 
escape to England. Her husband and Retaux de 
Yillette were condemned to hard labor for life ; 
Cagliostro was banished from France, while Mile. 
Oliva was released as having no knowledge of the 

[153] 



t MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

plot. The Cardinal was acquitted, escorted in 
triumph from the scene of trial, and received the 
sympathy of the people. The real victim of the 
affair of the necklace was not Rohan, but Marie 
Antoinette. 



[154] 



Chapter XVI 

Gathering Clouds 



s 



— v^OR years slander in one form or another 

M relentlessly pursued the Queen of France. 
Every possible thing was used as a weapon 
against her — her country, her birth, her 



beauty, her friendships, her tastes. The way had 
long been prepared ; the scandal of the necklace 
proved the signal for a swarm of fresh libels and 
coarse attacks upon her. Satirical lampoons were 
thrust under the King's plate at table. Even his own 
family made charges against her. A wave of cal- 
umny spread throughout the land Hke a contagious 
disease. Marie Antoinette herself, with all her fri- 
volity and thoughtlessness, at last became aware of 
the feeling against her. At the christening of the 
Duke of Normandy she said sadly, " The shouts of 
the people are not for me, but for my son ! " 

That unlucky necklace put an end to her happi- 
ness. Henceforth she was to encounter misfortune 
after misfortune, as if in preparation for the more 
terrible blows of fate in store for her. Her youngest 
daughter died. The Dauphin followed not long 

[155] 



* MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

after. Friends deserted her and new enemies con- 
stantly appeared. The joyous past turned like a 
phantom against her. Popular fury rose in all its 
terrible might. 

When Choiseul planned the marriage of Marie 
Antoinette to the Dauphin of France it was with 
the hope that it would prove a bond of union 
between the houses of Bourbon and Hapsburg ; but 
in this he had been bitterly disappointed, for hered- 
itary distrust remained undiminished, and Marie 
Antoinette was looked upon as a spy in the interests 
of her family. Even the errors of the government 
were ascribed to her influence. She was held re- 
sponsible for the lack of money in the treasury, the 
burden of taxation, the poverty and suiferings of the 
people. Those who were most in her debt were 
the first to desert her — a bitter lesson in the school 
of adversity. 

As soon as they saw the Queen's star was sink- 
ing, the Polignacs began to make overtures to her 
enemies. Marie Antoinette no longer dared to 
visit them without previously ascertaining whom 
she would meet there, while the Countess, far from 
feeling pity for her royal mistress, began to be un- 
easy on her own account. "Just because Your 
Majesty chooses to visit me, it surely is not neces- 
sary that I should close my doors to my friends," 

she said rudely. 
[156] 



GATHERING CLOUDS 



Marie Antoinette still continued to find excuses 
for the friend she had loved so devotedly, even 
when obliged to discontinue these visits ; but she 
did once remark in a conversation with the Austrian 
ambassador that Madame Polignac was so changed 
she scarcely recognized her any longer. 

Richly as they deserved the Queen's defection, 
the favorite and her associates deeply resented it, 
not from any affection for her, but because they 
were loath to lose the benefits they had derived 
from her favor. They now openly joined the 
ranks of her enemies. Some of the most malicious 
verses that appeared, which were sung all over Paris 
and Versailles, were traced to one of Mme. Polignac*s 
friends who was under special obligations to the 
Queen. 

Her appearance at a theatre was the signal for 
loud hisses. Painters no longer dared to exhibit 
her portraits, and caricatures of the sovereigns were 
sold openly in the street. One of these represented 
the Queen eating, and the King in the act of drain- 
ing his glass, while the people stood without, crying 
with hunger. 

At last the time came when the prefect of police 
was obliged to warn Marie Antoinette that it was 
no longer safe for her to show herself in the capital. 
The once gay, pleasure-loving Queen found herself 
alone and almost friendless, an object of public 

[^S7] 



* MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH t 

detestation, surrounded by treachery, no longer 
knowing whom to trust. Full of dark forebodings 
and with visions of the awful fate that awaited her, 
she shut herself up at Trianon. 

Here all was as of old, yet no longer the same. 
The rooms that once had echoed with joyous laughter 
were empty and silent ; the park where she had 
spent so many happy hours was bare and leafless. 
The summer of her life was over, her days of 
happiness forever past. 



[158] 



^fftnVix 



The following is a chronological statement of the principal 
events in the life of Marie Antoinette : 

1755 Birth of Marie Antoinette. 

1770 Marriage to the French Dauphin. 

1774 Death of Louis the Fifteenth. 

1774 Accession to the throne of Louis the Sixteenth and Marie 

Antoinette. 
1789— 1793 Leader of party against the Revolution. 
1793 Louis the Sixteenth executed. 
1793 Marie Antoinette executed. 



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